Asphyxiate
by Aiden I
Summary: Tom Riddle, he's intelligent, clever, debonair and usually unshakable, but what happens when someone unwittingly stumbles upon his plans? She may be useful after all. Please Review.
1. Exam Interruptions

Disclaimer: I just realized that I forgot it, so here it goes--I'm not J.K. Rowling, period.

Also, please please please review when you're finished...I need some feedback.

* * *

Quill-tips plunged themselves in bottles of black ink as a flurry of papers whispered across the stiflingly humid classroom. The mid-May heat made the examination almost unbearable for the robe-clad students of Hogwarts. Feverishly, they pushed back their draping sleeves between page turns, and peeled back as many layers of clothing short of being appropriate. 

A single scorching ray of light, pouring from an intricate oriel window on the back wall, lay upon the broad shoulders of a dark haired boy, who sat, like the other students, vehemently working on his three feet of parchment essay. He tugged at his green and silver striped tie, relieving the pressure from his straining neck and allowing small drops of perspiration to roll from under the crook of his slender neck and come to rest on his protruding clavicle. The intolerable temperature brought a crimson flush to his cheeks, making his otherwise pale skin flooded with color. His furrowed brow quickly drained from his face as he slammed the quill down in a show of triumph over the task set before him. Gathering his papers, the chorus of scribbling quills was interrupted by the dull scraping sound of his chair being pushed back. With a great sweeping motion, his robes flew behind him as he marched up to his professor's desk, with a smirk upon his lips and a roll of parchment in his hand. Placing them down, he did an about-face and walked back to his own desk, surveying the room for anyone who dared meet his gaze.

He closely analyzed the movements of the blonde headed girl who sat directly in front of him. She sloppily wrote with her left hand and twirled a loose blonde curl in the other. He became mesmerized by the repetition of the light strands moving in a swirling motion between her index finger and thumb. Suddenly, a strong inclination to rip it right out of her head consumed him to the point of finding himself reaching for the tresses of blonde. She felt something move on the back of her scalp.

An ear splitting sound emitted from her pink lips.

"…_the hell!?_" She turned around to peer at Riddle as the rest of the class did the same.

"Is that racket?" finished Professor Slughorn.

"You have something in your hair," Tom quickly recovered, pretending to pull something from the strands of hair he was caught holding and disposing of the invisible object to the floor.

"Oh…" her delicate skin that was already scarlet from the heat in the room only intensified at her public show of hostility.

"Miss Westwood!" Slughorn called to her attentively, "That was not very lady like and I will not tolerate that sort of language! Ten points from Slytherin and one afternoon of detention." Her other classmates glared daggers at her.

Tom secretly grinned.

"Did you _see_ that?" spat Evelyn, "He docked ten points _and _gave me detention just because his stupid mustache was having a bad hair day," she focused on this particular facial hair as it was well known that what Horace Slughorn lacked on the crown of his head, he made up for above his lip.

"I know," her Ravenclaw friend nodded in agreement, "You'd think he'd go easy on you on account of his obvious favoritism towards his own house, but---

"It has nothing to do with Slytherin," Evelyn interrupted assuredly, "if I was one of his little Slug-clubians, he would have dropped it in a heart beat, but since he thinks that I'm so obviously not smart, talented, well-connected, fill-in-the-blank enough, you and I don't get all the perks that _they _do," she gestured to a picture of the Slug Club that they had been so ironically passing just at the time that she said it. Her friend led the way to Ravenclaw's east wing tower and stopped at the hanging tapestry that served as their entrance.

"I've gotta catch up on some things, but I'll see you at dinner," she waved as the tapestry moved aside for her.

"Yeah, see you later, bye Margaret," Evelyn sighed as she made her way to her own common room.

_'Why couldn't I have been in Ravenclaw?'_

_'Because you're not considered smart enough…'_ she immediately answered herself, _'I hate being in Slytherin, I don't even have any friends in my own house. The only reason I'm even in it is because of my stupid family heritage--- _she cut her own thoughts short and stopped to look suspiciously around the empty corridor, half-expecting her dead ancestor's ghosts to rise up from hell and reign their furry over her. She jokingly thought that they must have been bothering some other name-resenting descendant at the moment as they failed to make an appearance.

* * *

Tom gracefully held a spoonful of soup eyelevel and then slightly tipped it, allowing the misplaced soup to return to its origin, "Why have I never seen that girl in our house before?" he cautiously asked this with a hint of annoyance so that Abraxas did not take it as having any sort of interest in the girl.

"I don't know, because she's really not that significant I suppose…she's definitely not the most _popular_ girl in our house---not like—

"Hornby, I know…" Tom shrugged at the thought of the annoying female. She was always so quick to unfasten the two top buttons of her blouse, undoubtedly overestimating her assumptions about her own body and underestimating his concern with it.

"What would make her so particularly unpopular?" Tom inquired further, as he could see no signs of the possibility anywhere on her face.

"Her parents are very influential in the Wizarding world, make no mistake about that, they're actually rather well liked among pureblood families, it's just _her. _She's known to befriend mudbloods and the like…I would assume her parents either do not know about it, or they do and don't agree with it."

"Oh…" Tom feigned loosing interest but still gave her figure a fleeting glance as he turned to more important matters, "tomorrow night, at exactly ten o'clock, we're calling the Knights together. It is in your best interest to be on time," he added silkily.


	2. Midnight Meetings

"Where are _you_ going so late?" asked Evelyn's dorm mate.

She pulled back her curled hair in a ponytail, "To snog with my boyfriend," Evelyn answered nonchalantly.

"Na uh!" the girl squealed incredulously and launched herself on to Evelyn's four poster bed for more information. Her big blue eyes, lined with long clumpy eye lashes, brushed under her brow ridge dramatically, "What's his name?"

She rolled her eyes at her dorm mate's naivety, "Horace."

The girl's previously excited demeanor melted into one of confusion, "Horace? What sort of name is that?"

"Our potions professor's name."

"_EEEWWWWWWW! EVELYN WESTWOOD! ARE YOU CRAZY?!"_

"No," Evelyn shrugged and tossed her green and silver striped scarf over her shoulder, "it's detention Sylvia," she grabbed her over cloak, "I'll be back by…we'll, I don't really know when I'll be back," she shrugged and pulled the door closed.

* * *

Evelyn stood in the gothic archway of Professor Slughorn's office, "Oh, hello Miss Westwood, is there anything I can help you with?" 

She mentally kicked herself in the face, if that was even possible, for coming. The man had obviously forgotten all about it and Evelyn opened her mouth to say 'homework assistance', but was beat to it.

"Ah yes, your detention for the exam interruption…yes, well…" he looked around his office.

"Well, if you don't really have anything for me to---

"Nonsense, I'm sure there's something around here," he said this just as his monocle settled on the flobberworm jar and he plucked it from the shelf behind his desk, "This needs filling. You'll have to go into the Forbidden Forest to get it, but you shouldn't run into any trouble, the Forest is quite calm this time of year," He said this as to reassure her horrified appearance, "Run along, the daytime is fading and you want to be back before the sun goes down," Slughorn added as he went back to scribbling an overly large T on a student's parchment. She grimaced, scraping the large jar off of the surface of his mahogany desk and headed towards the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

The dead, fallen leaves crushed under Evelyn's heel as she stomped down the lightly beaten path leading into to the very heart of the Forest. 

"Come here little wormy," she whispered as she used the jar's cap to scrape the mucus clad flobberworm into it's new glass home, "Slughorn needs your head for his—

The sound of snapping twigs stopped her from saying anymore as her eyes grew wide in fear of being prey to one of the forest creature's wrath. She slowly rose up from the ground, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to leap out of her chest, and darted to the shelter of a tree with branches that almost swept to the ground making it ideal to climb. The stamping came closer, now accompanied by heavy breathing.

"Hello?" she called to the darkness, "look…I-I have," she looked down to the jar, the handle hanging on her wrist, "a weapon," she finished, forgetting about her wand completely, "and I'm not scared either."

Evelyn stared with saucer-like eyes at the small opening of the Forest where no trees grew, _'What if it's not a person at all, what if it's a centaur. What if it's—a unicorn?' _she was taken aback by actually seeing one as it was assumed that they were extinct, but then again, there it was; it's snowy white coat almost glowed while it slowly dragged itself into the moonlit bathed opening. Evelyn sighed in relief and clumsily half descended, half fell from the tree. At the sight of her, the unicorn picked up it's feet, desperately trying to gallop away, but was only able to get a few kilometers away when it's majestic frame stumbled to the ground and laid motionlessly on it's side. The animal's eyes closed into slits as it was acutely aware that Evelyn was hovering over it, "You need help," she said soothingly as she cautiously reached out to stroke it's neck, feeling something cold and wet on the palm of her hand. She quickly withdrew it from under the unicorn's hair, queasy at the sight of blood tracing the crevices of her skin. She used the hem of her cloak to wipe the unicorn blood off of her hand, "Help! Someone…" she frowned down at the dying unicorn knowing that it was completely futile to try to scream for help. It was ridiculous to hope that someone might be taking a stroll in the Forbidden Forest at night, "I'm going to get help. Headmaster Dippet or Dumbledore, or someone at Hogwarts can help you," she tried to sound calm, knowing it to be useless to an animal that had no sense of language.

Evelyn stood up, searching for signs of where she had come from, but was unable to discern one tree from another. A sense of panic slowly began to creep into her thoughts as she anxiously paced back and forth between the four paths set before her, _'I think this opening was on my left, so if I go right, that should bring me back…'_

Evelyn quickly set upon the trail before her brain could rationalize a different one. She knew that it was a mistake whenever the sound of running water echoed through out the seemingly empty forest as she definitely knew that she hadn't passed a stream earlier. Her feeling of disdain was fleeting as a peculiar smell seeped into her senses—the distinct musk of smoke.

Maybe if she followed the smoke it would bring her to people who could help her—or harm her, she thought darkly. Evelyn was torn between the two parts of her, one telling her to follow and the other to turn around. But if she did turn around, what good would that do her? She would still be as lost as before.

"Did you hear that?"

Evelyn looked around wildly for the source of the question.

"No," another male voice answered pointedly.

As much as she had hoped that there might be someone else in the Forest, she didn't actually expect that thought to materialize. It wasn't normal that any one person, let alone two people should be wandering around the Forbidden Forest at night, and for whatever reason they were, Evelyn suspected that it couldn't be for any virtuous one.

She dropped to her knees and crawled towards the billowing tower of smoke, but still hid herself in a thicket of bushes. Parting the thick leaves, she peered through the stems to glimpse figures huddled around a fire with the hoods of their cloaks over their heads, rendering their faces in shadow.

"_Crucio," _a male's voice casually uttered and the other cloak that had been looking in her direction writhed in pain, rolling around on the ground. The spell ceased and the caster spoke again, "if you make sure to pay attention that won't be necessary." The figure dropped to his knees and crawled to him in a disoriented fashion, "Forgive me my lord," he reached for the standing figure's robes.

"Don't touch me."

Evelyn clapped her hand over her own mouth, trying to mute the strained scream that slipped through her teeth as every person present reeled in the direction of her hiding place.

"There is someone here," the presumed leader of the group surveyed the surrounding trees and the rest of them followed suit, dispersing from the tight circle and out towards to the rest of the Forest.

She immediately crawled away from the scene, ignoring how much noise was being incited.

"Over there!" someone shouted and Evelyn knew she had been revealed. Jumping up from the forest floor, she broke out into a run, heading for a destination unknown to her. Twigs and leaves whipped against her legs and arms as she darted between trees to dodge the hexes that were being fired at her. Her hood flew back, catching on a limb as it was ripped right off of the tree that she flew past. Her pace picked up with encouragement by the sight of the disappearing tree line. The towers of Hogwarts came into view, so she headed in that direction. As soon as she set foot back on the grounds, Evelyn finally slowed down and glanced over her shoulder, but the gang of wizards weren't following her anymore. Instead of stopping to linger on it, she dashed up the sloping grounds and towards the large oak doors. She furiously slammed the rusted door knocker, "Please! Let me in!" she shouted while periodically glancing over her shoulder.

Pringle, the caretaker, cracked open the door to speak to her.

"Eh? What da ya want?"

"I'm a student! Let me in!" she showed him her Slytherin crest that was stitched on the breast of her cloak.

"I should let ya stay out there. Students aren't suppose to be out a' night!"

"Professor Slughorn sent me out here. You can go ask him if you want to," she narrowed her eyes at him and he seemed to back down as he opened the door wider to let her in, "Thanks," she muttered unappreciatively.

Evelyn began to make her way back to the dungeons when she realized that somewhere along the way she had left the jar in the Forbidden Forest. She couldn't go back to his office without the jar, so she bypassed it all together and went on to the Slytherin common room, figuring that Slughorn had probably forgotten all about it again anyway. Passing his office, she went on to her own room, slowly letting the door creak open as a small ray of light in the room happened to fall upon Sylvia's face.

"Where have you been all this time?" her dorm mate asked groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

Evelyn considered the question for a moment, "Places."


	3. Legilimency

Slughorn's walrus-like physique outlined the dungeon's doorway as he entered, goblet in hand and waddled to his desk at the front of the potions classroom.

A small shrug of disrespect could be heard, but only by the few who were sitting close to him, as it escaped the thin, haughty lips of Tom Riddle.

"Good morning—good morning class!" the professor's nose was looking particularly red.

"Good morning Professor Slughorn," the class replied monotonously.

"And what a glorious morning it is," he grinned, his sweeping mustache widened as if it was being stretched across his face. With a flick of his wand, the drapes flew back from the windows and sunlight poured out, causing the students to flinch and squint from the morning ray's assault on their eyes.

"Wake up and get your minds ready to work," with another wand flick chalk began scribbling out notes on the board while everyone instinctively pulled out parchment and quills to copy it down.

"Today we are going to be working on a very important draught," he took one last swig of whatever contents resided in his goblet, and slamming it back on his desk top, he began again, "the draught of verity, and yes Mr. Riddle, it as the name would suggest, and as you are correctly thinking, the draught is indeed merely a milder form of veritaserum," Slughorn had invariably volunteered the information that Tom was ready to supply, but he refused to lower his hand until Professor Slughorn agreed to recognize him. Slughorn raised his eyebrows, and in doing so, Tom continued.

"Yes sir, but could this possibly be a prerequisite to veritaserum?" he asked suggestively.

Slughorn grinned slightly with a knowing look, "I should have read you better in knowing that you should ask, but I'm afraid the answer is no. We're studying it as a prerequisite to _next _year. That is of course if you supply the necessary grades—as I am confident that you will—you can enroll yourself in my advanced potions class where we will be learning more about it…So my next question is, does anyone know what the actual difference is between the draught of verity and veritaserum, aside from the obvious?" he stood, his hands, struggling to clasp one another behind the large expanse of his back, and waited for a moment.

Tom lazily raised his slender arm, "Yes Mr. Riddle?" Slughorn asked, still facing the board.

"Veritaserum makes the drinker divulge any secret, no matter how important it is to that person. It can be extracted without any hindrance, whereas the draught of verity, not being as potent, allows you to extract secrets that are not closely guarded by the drinker. While the draught of verity is considered obsolete by today's standards, it was the best available in 1926 when it was invented by Whitacker Windlock, a former Potions Master of Hogwarts himself, who did not invent it's successor until 1935."

"Well done Professor Riddle," Slughorn praised in a jesting tone; a small grin fell upon Tom's comely features. The class responded with a mixture of admiration and annoyance at the eloquent young prefect.

"I hope you were paying attention, because that was your introduction to our lesson…"

Slughorn's incessant praise was lost on Evelyn, who sat in the very back, whispering last night's events to Margaret, "and there were these people, who—I guess were hiding in the forest…I don't really know what they were doing, but one of them used an unforgivable curse on—

_"Evelyn,"_ Margaret uttered accompanied by the slanting of a thin eyebrow at her friend in disbelief, in the way that a well- knowing mother would at the suspicion of her lying child.

_"You think I would make this up?" _her whisper now elevating into her own voice.

"So you left the unicorn?" Margaret changed the subject to assuage Evelyn's growing defensiveness.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise, "I _did _leave it there!" she felt a pang of guilt and ruefulness for forgetting it.

"Maybe it'll still be there…you really should call it to the attention of the Headmaster…that's serious."

"You're right. As soon as I get the chance, I'm taking it to Dippet--

"Maybe Miss Westwood can tell us how this potion is to be brewed as she seems to be so intent on talking this morning." Evelyn's blonde head snapped upwards and once again the entire class was staring at her. Her eyes searched around the room, trying to figure out just _which _potion they were learning about. Margaret quickly came to her aid by scribbling 'draught of verity' at the top of her parchment.

"You mean the draught of verity," Evelyn questioned more than answered, "yes…well…the first step is…you cut up lacewing flies. Then…you…get ten unsucculated leeches and put them into the cauldron—but not before you boil the mucus of flobberworms and mix it with water at…a hundred—no a hundred and ten degrees. It should set for…" Evelyn glanced at Margaret's paper, but it offered no help this time, "forty-five minutes. Then you should stir it five times clockwise and then eight times counter clockwise."

Slughorn almost seemed surprised at her answer as he took out his monocle and wiped it with a handkerchief before placing it back into his eye, "That was astoundingly the most unfortunate waste of my time that has ever been administered."

Evelyn frowned.

"If you are finished making a mockery of the art that is Potion making, I'll divide all of you into groups." And with that last insult, he began walking around to each table, putting together students who would benefit each other.

"Miss Westwood, I think it might serve you well to work with Mr. Riddle on this assignment," even though it was presented as a suggestion, she knew it was to be interpreted as an order. Evelyn gave the Ravenclaw prefect an anxious look as she gingerly gathered up her cauldron and supplies to move to his table.

Tom did not acknowledge her as he seemed to be in his own little world, scratching away on parchment.

"Hi, I'm Evelyn," she introduced herself meekly, "uhm…I think you pulled my hair out the last time we met," she joked, hoping to lighten the thick atmosphere that seemed to surround them.

"Hardly," though he really could not justify his actions even to himself, of what had come over him to do such a thing. Evelyn sat down, placing her cauldron on the table top and opening her book.

"You won't be needing those," Tom articulated with an air of superiority as he kept his eyes focused on the instructions before him. Evelyn was taken aback at being ordered around by someone she had just met. She found this annoying to such an extent that she felt it warranted a snotty--but silent--reenactment of it.

"And I would be most appreciative if you would cease from doing that." Her eyes narrowed in astonishment; she could have sworn he had been looking at his parchment the entire time, "Here," he handed her the lacewing, "cut this up."

Even though she had previously been annoyed at him for doing it before, she did not think twice about acquiescing to his demands. The faint scratching noise of Tom's quill halted as his eyes flashed upwards to monitor her handy work. As her wrist carefully moved up and down, he couldn't help but notice faint red lines, extending outward on her pale forearms exhibited by her rolled up sleeves.

"What happened to your arm?" he asked as he had seemingly dropped the conceited attitude.

"Nothing," she quickly answered, pushing her sleeves down, "it's just a few cat scratches. My dorm mate's stupid cat thinks my bed is her home…and she gets mad whenever I try to pry her off," Evelyn congratulated herself for being so smooth.

"Oh, I see," he feigned belief in the ill-concocted story but refused to give up.

Tom stared intently at Evelyn's forehead as she busied herself once again with the mutilation of the lacewing. _'Where were you last night?' _Tom kept repeating in his own mind over and over again while uninhibitedly staring at her. A few moments passed when she became aware of his lack of manners, "Excuse me?" she interrupted him, unwittingly throwing him off by the obtrusive sound of her voice, "is there something I can help you with? Or do you have a particular interest in my hair line?"

"I wasn't looking at your hair line," his cold, grey eyes flared at hers, "I was observing the manner in which you are destroying our supplies," he gestured to the dissected lacewing.

"Well why don't you just do everything yourself!" she half-shouted with an edge of impatience creeping into her voice while throwing the knife across the table, after the fact, thanking Merlin that no one actually saw it.

Evelyn sat there for the rest of class—sulking while Tom in fact _did_ finish their draught all by himself. He occasionally glanced up at her.

"What?" Evelyn spat the question at him as she caught his grey-eyed gaze fleetingly across the table.

"I'm rather wary of getting the tip of my nose chopped off…just checking to make sure anymore weapons aren't coming my way," he remarked superciliously. In lieu of a retort, she amused herself with the thought of accidentally chopping off a _different _part of him—maybe _then _he wouldn't feel the need to be so ego-inflated.

"Time is up," declared Slughorn as he waddled back to the front of the classroom, "everyone turn in a sample of your draughts to my front desk."

Tom filled a small vial with their—more accurately, _his—_draught and placed it, almost sanctimoniously, in front of everyone else's. Supremely annoyed at his sabotaged interrogation _and_ the fact that Evelyn had acted so childishly, Tom decided to leave her with one last comment before they departed, "Do you _always_ act this incompetent?" he asked the question that was, in his mind, rhetorical.

"Do you _always _try legilimency on people you first meet?"

Evelyn reveled in the fact that for once, Thomas Marvolo Riddle, was at a loss for words.

* * *

A/N: I've looked at the stats for the last two chapters and a lot of people have at least continued on to the 2nd chapter, but didn't review. I know this is completely common, but I'm beeeeeeeeeeegggggging (on my hands and knees) to please review, because I can't really know if anyone is actually interested or if they're just reading on to the next chapters and thinking to themselves, "ugh..this is horrible." So please, it'll only take a few seconds, good, bad, whatever…all criticism/review is welcome. On a side note – a major turn of events in my life has sort of prevented me from writing in what seems like an entire year, so I'm really trying to get back into the swing of things, so reviews and criticism would be incredibly helpful right now. 

Stay classy,

Aiden I.


	4. Revelation

Free seating on weekends was something of a relief for the two conflicting house members, but that morning was not the case as they both sat in silence for the duration of it. Evelyn stabbed at her banana pudding as if it were a monster that refused to die.

"So are you going to tell Headmaster Dippet about the unicorn?" Margaret asked hopefully, holding her spoonful of pudding in the air as if Evelyn's answer determined the consumption of it.

"Yes," she answered curtly.

"And the wizards?"

"Ah huh."

"Did you even hear me?" Margaret raised an eyebrow skeptically and turned to look at her Slytherin cohort.

"Yes Miss Prefect! I heard you," she plunged the prongs into the pudding and stood to leave, the fork still standing erect.

Everyone regarded her quizzically except Olive Hornby who was the brave one to speak up, "What's wrong with her?"

Margaret shrugged and consulted her pudding.

* * *

The statue of a great eagle with bent wings corkscrewed upwards to the Headmaster's corridor. Evelyn stepped out from under it's stone feathers and reached up to grasp the brass door knocker, but before she could even wrap her fingers around it, the door opened with a creak. 

"Good afternoon Miss Westwood," an older man with long, auburn hair regarded her cheerily.

"Good afternoon Professor Dumbledore."

"Come in dear, Armando will be with you shortly. He is having a conference with another student at the moment."

The door to Dippet's office opened barely an inch, allowing the raspy voice of Hogwart's Headmaster to echo out, "And don't let me catch you hiding unapproved animals ever again. If this persists, there will be serious consequences, do you understand me?"

"Yessir, I swear ya won' ever see me in here agin," a voice just on the other side of the door replied.

"Good boy, that's what I want to hear," with that the door forcefully swung open and the towering form of Hagrid—affectionately nicknamed "Oaf" by her fellow Slytherins—sauntered through the doorway.

Evelyn backed into a cluster of Dippet's mysterious instruments, fading into the background like a statue among them. Her eyes uninhibitedly followed the giant Gryffindor out of the Headmaster's office, not daring to move until he was well away from the door.

"Armando, Miss Evelyn Westwood is here to see you," Professor Dumbledore stuck his head in the door, "The headmaster will see you now," he spoke to the statuesque Evelyn, "It was nice seeing you. Don't forget about the essay due Thursday. I look forward to seeing you in class," he shook Evelyn's hand and exited the room. She slowly uncovered her palm to reveal a plastic-wrapped peppermint.

"Allow me to get this straight," Headmaster Dippet peered skeptically down at her from his high desk, "You were in the Forbidden Forest _at night_ on the insistence of _Professor Slughorn_ and you stumbled upon a _unicorn?_"

"Yes, I know that it sounds odd—

"Not only that, it was injured?" he asked incredulously.

"Well," she shifted uncomfortably in her low-legged chair, "it was more than injured, it was dead," she decided to omit the fact that she had actually _watched _it die.

"So _you _want _me _to go to the Forbidden Forest to investigate this?"

"Well…I don't know, but it may look rather incriminating if _The Daily Prophet _found out that unicorns had died on the campus of Hogwarts and the Headmaster _knowingly _refused to do anything about it," Evelyn answered, growing annoyed at his condescending attitude.

"Are you threatening me?" the Headmaster spat in outrage.

"Goodness no!" she gasped as if the very suggestion was absolutely alarming, "I'm just saying—hypothetically."

Dippet slammed his quill down and stared her in the face, "Let's get on with it then—this had better be good," he grumbled under his breath.

Evelyn, quite a few steps ahead of Dippet who slowly poked along with a wooden cane, followed the same worn path that she had been traversing only nights before. She glanced over her shoulder to see Dippet grimacing at her, "Only a few more steps and—

It wasn't there.

Evelyn couldn't believe her eyes, she peered about wildly in disbelief, "It was here!" she pointed in outrage, "It was lying right here! I climbed in that tree," she then pointed up to a low sweeping tree with a few broken branches.

"Just as I thought," Dippet proclaimed self-righteously, just now appearing on the scene, "you think it's funny playing tricks on an old man, do you?"

"No," she looked to him, her face completely drained, "No! It was laying right there, and it bled on my hand," she held up her own hand to him as if to allow him to imagine blood dripping from it, equally as real as the dead unicorn was to him.

"How dare you threaten me to come out here and then lie to me!" Dippet railed on her, "this entire episode warrants a letter home and very likely expulsion!"

"No!" her face took on a bestial mix of anger and fear, "I'm not lying! It really—

The headmaster raised his wand, _"Silencio!"_

Evelyn's mouth immediately shut as if her lips were being invisibly zipped together.

"I've heard quite enough from you today young lady. It is in your best interests to return to your common room and do not bring the matter before me again. I will contact you in due time when your punishment is determined," Dippet murmured the counter spell and turned on his heel, muttering to himself about the outrage of it all.

Evelyn slowly made her way back to the castle, tears threatening to fall out of her watery eyes. She pushed open the grand, arched doorway to find Margaret waiting for her on the other side.

"What did he say?" she asked excitedly, following her through the open courtyard.

"He's not going to do anything about it, the unicorn wasn't even there."

"What'd you mean it wasn't there?" she repeated inquisitively.

"_IT JUST WASN'T THERE!"_ Evelyn raised her voice irritably, "I don't know—someone or something moved it. I don't know, all I know is, that it wasn't there and now Dippet thinks I'm lying about the whole thing."

"Well, what about the group of wizards?"

"I didn't tell him," she pushed roughly past some other second years that traditionally clogged up the hallways, causing them to huff and puff at her retreating figure.

"Why not?" Margaret asked as if outraged by the injustice of it.

"I don't know, I just didn't tell him."

"But-but that's the most important thing! They were practicing unforgivable curses! What would come over you to withhold that?"

"I don't know," she fired back sarcastically, "maybe because he didn't believe me in the first place, and I'm already on the chopping block for expulsion because of the whole thing!" she was now shouting, "And besides, Slytherins don't snitch."

"It doesn't matter Evelyn, you should've told—

"Margaret?"

"Yes?" she piped up.

"Shut up," she finalized the argument and stormed off.

_'Margaret,' _Evelyn sneered, _'of course she doesn't understand, she's perpetually surrounded by all the little do-gooders of Ravenclaw.' _

She traipsed through the arched doorway of the library. Slamming her bag down, she began wondering through the maze of books. Surrounding students snapped their noses out of the creases of their cryptic bindings and harshly stared in the direction of the subject of their annoyance. She glared back at anyone who dared meet her gaze as she was in a very unapologetic state of mind.

Evelyn hated having the sudden epiphany of realizing that she had absolutely no indication as to why she was there other than she needed a place to escape to.

Throwing herself into a chair, she pulled out her potions textbook and began her essay for Slughorn. She got as far as writing her name on the paper until she realized that this would take quite a bit of research. Slapping her quill on the desk, she once again began wandering around the towering bookshelves. She shrugged as she could already tell she was nearing the section where the library harbored its books who's contents consisted of ways to improve one's face and figure. She knew this because giggles seem to dance around the shelves, but she shot them callous glares as she pushed past—not feeling very congenial towards her own sex at the moment--though this observation was rather hypocritical of her as she had never quite fit into the upper echelons of academia herself.

In Evelyn's mind she had _much_ more important things to do—like discussing _"the mechanics and vitality of adding bat lacewings to the Polyjuice Potion,"_ she thought, reciting the essay prompt, feeling herself to be above the materialistic ideals that so many of her peers idolized.

She now ventured to the very back of the library where on the most studious of over-achievers frequented.

"_Teen Witch Weekly _magazines are a few aisles up," the scabrous voice of Tom Riddle floated through one of the shelves of books.

_"I know that," _she answered haughtily, speaking to him between _Hogwarts, A History _and _Magical Medicine. _

"I figured you would," Tom fired back matter-of-factly. Evelyn would much liked to have thrown one of those books at him. Instead, she took _Magical Medicine _and deposited it into her ever-growing stack of books.

She reached for another one when another long digited hand rested on it to stop her. She whirled around to meet a gleaming silver and green prefect badge.

Tom stared down at his captive, allowing very little space between himself and the book case.

"You think I cold be so easily fooled by your ridiculous explanation of this," he growled, grabbing her wrist up to expose the red marks on her arm. She backed up so far into the shelf that the bindings dug into her spine. She was still trembling from the scare but quickly regained her voice, "What does it matter how I got them?" She became slightly disoriented by the masculine smell of Tom Riddle being swept into her nostrils.

"They weren't from any cat!" he whispered harshly.

"Let go of me," she raised her straining voice as blood rushed to the surface of her cheeks.

"You got them from running—in the Forbidden Forest didn't you?"

"It was you!" she croaked and fell against the bookshelf for support, the volumes now falling at her feet.

"What did you see?" he asked quickly.

"Nothing."

"_What _did you see?" he repeated the question in obvious disbelief of her answer.

"I didn't see anything! I don't even care what you do with your stupid little club."

"Which will _always _be your answer," Tom demanded.

"And what if I _do _tell someone?" Evelyn shot back cattily, regaining her courage.

"You won't," he flashed her the ghost of a debonair smile.

"Now get off of me before I scream rape," she threatened now feeling a surge of pride.

"Go ahead, no one would believe you," he backed up, "besides, you'd like it."

* * *

AN: I know everyone is off reading the Deathly Hallows, as I soon will be, but when you're done, please review :) 


	5. Cold Water

Rating changed for this chapter, sorry if anyone's upset!

* * *

Evelyn glanced up at the Ravenclaw prefect from her seat in Slytherin, one table over, but Margaret refused to acknowledge her, _'Fine, let her be like that, the brat...' _she thought coldly but was interrupted by the chorus of hoots that echoed from the arched ceiling of the Great Hall. Evelyn Westwood regarded the flock of owls with disdain, and borderline indifference, as she had now become used to not getting anything from her parents. Tom Riddle seemed to be the only one in the same boat, as he did not even look up from his copy of _The Daily Prophet. _

For that reason, Evelyn could not be more surprised to see the large gray owl belonging to Leramye and Victoria Westwood, swoop down over her head. It might have been her imagination, but she could've sworn that the owl was grasping a letter in its sharp claws. Evelyn was squirming in anticipation of what would warrant a letter from them. The great owl circled the Slytherin table and as it flew by Evelyn's head, the letter was ejected right into her bowl of porridge.

"_Stupid bird," _she mumbled under her breath and dug the sealed envelope from her bowl. Anger forgotten, she ripped through the wax seal to pull out a thick piece of parchment.

_Dear Evelyn,_

_We were most horrified to be contacted by Headmaster Dippet—_

Evelyn groaned, she should have known that a friendly letter from _her _parents was too good to be true, but continued reading to learn of her fate.

—_this week. He regretfully—_

"—Regretfully, I'm sure that's _exactly _the word that he used," she commented to herself.

_—informed us that you have been getting into trouble as of late. Not only were you interrupting Professor Slughorn's (your own head of House no less!) class during an exam, you deliberately lied to the Headmaster of Hogwarts and led him into the Forbidden Forest (the most dangerous place on the campus) under false pretenses. This insolence will not go unnoticed young lady! Your absurd actions, coupled with the unsatisfactory marks that you have perpetually earned, have put a stain on the name Westwood for the very last time. We are continually embarrassed by your antics and cannot bare the distress you have associated with our status as noble purebloods.—_

'_Blah, blah, blah,' _Evelyn mocked silently, _'Like I give a damn about your social status…'_

—_We know you have previously regarded it as an empty threat, but we are forthwith disinheriting you. _

_Goodbye,_

_Leramye and Victoria Westwood_

Evelyn growled at the loathsome individuals that were her ex-parents, "I can't believe this," she shook her head breathily, "they're even sorrier than I thought…what kind of parents…?" She was at such a loss for words she couldn't even finish.

She threw her napkin on the Slytherin table and snatched up the letter in one fist, retreating to the dungeons.

"Phineas Nigellus…Black," she had almost forgotten the last name, which—unsurprisingly—was always a famous Slytherin's. The stone wall parted in the outline of her body as she walked through it. She passed through the common room, much like she passed through life, without much attention.

Evelyn threw herself on her bed, face down, and laid there without moving. The patterns and shapes danced under her eyelids, making her feel slightly disoriented as her eyes tried to follow them. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. Where was she going to go? She didn't have any money…she couldn't stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the summer…but if she got expelled then it wouldn't matter either way. Even if she didn't get expelled, then she still had the problem of money—for without it, she couldn't pay for her books or supplies. For the first time in a long while, tears began to spring behind her tightly closed eyes, but she choked them back in fear of anyone seeing.

"What's wrong doll?" came the sympathetic voice, intruding her thoughts.

Evelyn raised her head to reveal a blotchy visage to Sylvia. She was almost taken aback by her compassionate attitude; she and Sylvia had never quite achieved the level of weaving friendship bracelets for each other or anything.

"Nothing," Evelyn replied, they weren't _that _close, "some things are just going badly," she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at the knots.

"Oh, come on Evey," Sylvia implored.

_Evey? What was this? _As far as Evelyn was concerned, she and Sylvia _did not _have cutesy nicknames for one another. That was one of her and Olive Hornby's exclusive traditions that they didn't dare share with other girls who weren't in their league.

"It's just…" Evelyn quickly realized her mistake of not hiding the letter a moment too late, as it was already snatched up by Sylvia, who obviously had no inclination of what private property was.

Her blue eyes scanned over it and the pouty lips she was so famous for curled into what seemed like a sincere frown, "I'm sorry sweetie, that's horrible that you're parents don't love you anymore."

Sylvia had a natural born talent for consoling.

"It's okay…really." The Westwoods were less than the perfect model for parenting and she considered it no tragedy that hers didn't care for her, for that was something she knew long ago, her galleon-less future was what worried her the most.

"Look," Sylvia grabbed her hand, as if trying to imitate someone she might have witnessed comforting another, "I know _exactly _what you need…"

"And that would be…?" Evelyn was thinking something along the lines of a future.

"A party!" she smiled a wide, toothy smile.

"Uhm…I don't know…"

"Of course you do! Do you know where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy is?"

"The one that tried to train trolls for a ballet?" He was one of the only people that Evelyn remembered from History of Magic because of his odd contribution to it.

"Uhm…I don't know…sure," Sylvia didn't seem to remember him as well as Evelyn did, "Anyway, meet me in front of it at eleven tonight."

"Er…I don't kn—

"Ok, I'll see you then," she smiled and purposely traipsed out of the dorm room, as if she had just righted the wrongs of the world.

Eleven had come around a little too quick for Evelyn who had spent the afternoon fretting and devising plans to break into her parent's Gringotts vault. Nevertheless, she did not object to Sylvia's _party, _so she pulled on a pair of robes over her night gown and set out for the tapestry.

She knew she was in the right place when she saw a group of girls, huddled in a circle around the one who had invited her. She camouflaged herself among them, wondering what could be so important on the bare wall that they were all standing in front of.

Sylvia paced back and forth in front of everyone, as if waiting for something; she stopped, and then looked at the wall, "We need a secret place for a party."

"It's the room of requirement," a girl in front of her turned to her friend to explain.

Iron work seemed to slither out from within the cracks of the wall, making intricate swirls on the wall and then two doors took shape, opening outwards to them. Evelyn was amazed that there was such a place in Hogwarts and even more amazed that Sylvia was the one to find it. Margaret would have liked to see this, but she quickly pushed the thoughts of her out of her head as she remembered that they were supposed to be fighting.

The room was mainly an empty expanse with comfortable, plush, couches and chairs scattered around a blazing fire. The only light emitted from the tall hearth at the very center of the room where flames merrily danced off of the thick logs.

"Take a seat girls!" Sylvia squealed in excitement as everyone began to peel away their outer robes and toss them on the floor.

Evelyn assumed that this was the regular establishment of each party, with Sylvia in the middle, directing all the attention, and the other girls following along.

"Look what _I_ nicked from a muggle over the summer," Sylvia smiled proudly, pulling a silver case that resembled a Deluminator, out of the cup of her bra.

It was then, in the light of the room of requirement, that Evelyn realized how scantily clad everyone was for this _party. _She never thought she would feel over dressed in a night gown. The center of attention herself only wore a uniform oxford shirt like an extremely short dress, her black lacy underwear peeping through the open flaps on each side of her hips. The two top buttons of the normally conservative dress shirt were popped open, allowing Sylvia's bosom—that was usually barely constrained anyway—free to the open air. The other girls in the room were dressed, more or less, the same way.

"It's a cigarette lighter!" she explained, as if it was the most amazing invention of all and pulled out a cigarette out from behind her ear to light it. She took a long drag from the cigarette and the girls all watched in anticipation, some in admiration. Pulling the lipstick-marked roll from her lips, she blew a ring of smoke from her dark red lips, "See! Just like in the muggle cinemas!"

"Ooooo," the other girls clapped and cheered for her amazing accomplishment. Evelyn herself was only mildly amused by Sylvia's feat but clapped and plastered on a smile for the sake of fitting in.

Olive Hornby, Sylvia's best friend and partner in crime, was the loudest of the girls, blood had seeped to the surface of her china-doll skin and her ever bouncing ringlets of blonde seemed to be going full speed as she threw her head back to laugh. It was at this second that Olive sensed Evelyn's eyes and immediately froze, then turned to sneer at her, "What's _she _doing here?" She crossed her high-heeled feet and glanced at her friend.

Sylvia drew their attention back to her as she waved everyone's laughter away with her hand gesture, "Quiet down girls…I just wanted everyone to know…that I brought Evelyn Westwood with me tonight for some Slytherin girl fun!" To that all the girls hooted in unison with a cheer, but then quieted down for their leader to speak again, "Because her parents have disowned her."

Evelyn sunk deeper into her chair, wishing it to swallow her whole at the embarrassment of Sylvia announcing that to almost every girl in their house. Consequently, Sylvia let out an obvious fake whine of sympathy and led the chorus of "aaaws," from the other girls as if Evelyn were an abandoned kitten.

"So now," she raised her voice in triumph, "we're going to show her how to forget her problems our way!"

Evelyn had to hand it to her, Sylvia had a gift for leading her herd of dumb driven cattle.

"The first thing that needs to be done is the initiation!" the girls cheered again.

"Initiation?" Evelyn choked, afraid of what this might entail.

"Wait a minute!" Olive spoke up, "Shouldn't we take a vote on who we admit to the Slytherin Girls Club? I mean—we _do _have some standards to uphold," she finished cattily.

"Olly, seriously…there's no need to vote."

"_Yes there is," _Olive wrinkled her defined nostrils.

"Fine," Sylvia shrugged, bringing the point of her wand to her chin, "Everyone who wants to initiate Evelyn Westwood in, raise your hand."

Evelyn swelled with pride as almost everyone in the room raised their hands, except Olive and her few devoted friends.

"All opposed?"

Olive, who seemed determined to exclude her, raised her hand.

"All right then!" Sylvia exclaimed cheerily, ignoring Olive's groan of protest, "you're in! As I was saying—the initiation," she used her wand to point to Alice Archer, "exhibit A."

Alice beamed because her chest was the particular one that Sylvia chose to display, calling attention to the black bra that was showing generously out of her oxford school shirt "This is the trademark of our group. As you will notice, all of your fellow members are wearing theirs."

It was then that she realized to what extent that the other girls really had excluded her from the other fifth years of her house.

"This very undergarment marks you as a true Slytherin girl—it sets you apart from all the bookish Ravenclaws," all the girls booed at the mention of their rivaled houses, "dowdy Gryffindors, and pious Hufflepuffs."

She waited for the girls to settle down before the initiation commenced, "Bra please," she held out her hand and Alice placed a black, laced bra in it, "_this, _is for you," she smiled at Evelyn with her chiclet teeth.

"Uhm…thanks," Evelyn replied with contrived appreciation as she had no idea how she was supposed to respond.

"Well…put it on!"

"Right now?" she looked around apprehensively, "here?!"

"Sure, it's okay. We're all girls here."

"I guess…" Evelyn answered unsurely. In the end, she opted for turning her back while she switched out her bras, taking the cotton one and casting it on the floor. The other girls resumed their incessant laughter and chatter as if it were nothing.

"Here girls, pass these around," Sylvia said as she distributed umber colored, glass, bottles to all the girls gathered around the fire.

"This stuff's pretty strong, isn't it?" Evelyn asked regarding the bottle.

"Of course, there's nothing stronger than firewhiskey," it didn't take much perception to realize that Evelyn was uneasy about the beverage of choice, "C'mon Evelyn, might as well have fun when you're young, because you sure as hell won't whenever you're older—you'll be reduced to nothing more than an uncommonly pretty house elf," she puffed up her chest and her voice shot up a few octaves, "Not when you're married off to some young, successful wizard. You have to make sure the manor is kept, food is on the table and that your husband is happy," she laughed, though Evelyn wondered how much of that speech had been given to Sylvia by a real female figure in her own life.

Evelyn imagined herself as an eighty year old witchmaid, sitting by her window, wishing for the days when she could have done something fun and when her skin wasn't hanging four inches from her bones.

"You're right," Evelyn smiled back at her new friend.

"That's my girl," Sylvia smiled back and took a swig of her own firewhiskey.

It didn't take long for Evelyn to realize how much tolerance her small frame had for alcohol. She downed her second bottle of the strong whiskey, it burned down her throat and her stomach gargled in protest. Somewhere between her second and third one, music started up and some girls had started dancing half coherently around the fireplace. She thought they were dancing around her until she realized that was just her head spinning from intoxication.

"'Ere's to—to Crumple Horned Snorkacks," Evelyn smiled, clinking the top her bottle with Sylvia's as she had resorted to talking nonsense.

"The hell…?" she seemed to have forgotten what she was saying, "the 'ell is that?"

"Don' know…in Sweden, they live thur," Evelyn slurred in response, "course."

They both gulped down another shot, "What toast now?" Sylvia spoke as incoherently as Evelyn.

"To…" she held up her bottle, her muddled brain trying to think of something worth toasting to, "Umgubular Slashkilter."

"What…?" Sylvia looked up at her quizzically, even in her smashed state she knew that that didn't make sense, "never mind."

Before Evelyn could explain, the doors burst open and a tall, angular, figure stood in the archway. The girls dropped their bottles to the floor, glass smashed and scattered across the tiles. Evelyn's head spun, the figure rocked back and forth in front of her eyes. Everyone else ran by her, grabbing for their robes, screaming and darting out of the door.

"Evelyn Westwood," the dark voice sneered and the figure approached her. She tried to look out at him from behind a glazed stare as she realized she was all alone.

"Have you come to see the horcruxes?" she half asked, half laughed.

The Slytherin prefect raised his eyebrows at her but chose to ignore her babbling and jerked her up from her sprawled place on the floor.

"Where…going?" she mumbled to the dark headed stranger that was gripping her by the arm, leading her down a dark hallway. It was then that she realized just who was dragging her around in the dead of night.

"Ger off me! Ger away from me!" she slurred angrily, and tried to wrench her arm free, but his grasp only tightened in response.

"No!" Tom annunciated pointedly, "You're coming with me."

"NO!" she screamed, but he completely disregarded her blood-curdling screams as he yanked her roughly around a corner, into another dimly lit corridor.

"Pine fresh," he muttered, to which Evelyn was very confused by.

The door swung open and Evelyn reached for the door frame, holding on for dear life, and determined not to be in a room with him. Tom pried her fingers from it but she threw her entire body weight away from him, almost slipping out of his vice like grip.

"_Have it your way," _Tom grumbled and grabbed her behind her knee caps, slinging her small frame over his shoulder and sauntered through the door frame, pinkish light caressing their faces from inside the room. Evelyn was in such a state of panic that she completely ignored the foreign room that he had brought her to and before she could get a good look, she was pulled from over his shoulder. Unstable from the alcohol that freshly ran through her veins, Tom easily shoved her backwards, causing her to trip over the edge of a claw-footed bathtub and landed on her back inside of the basin. He ripped open the plastic shower curtain, hooks flying from the rod, and jerked the knob.

Freezing droplets of water saturated her thin nightgown, causing her to cry out in surprise.

"Maybe that'll sober you up," Tom scoffed at her drunken state, staring at the small figure sprawled in the bottom of the bathtub. The shocking torture ended as he shut off the shower head and jerked her up from the bathtub floor.

She stood, in the middle of the bathtub, paralyzed by his stare. The sound of dripping water filled the room as the drops fell from her separated tendrils of soaked hair, rolling down her neck, falling on her chest and tumbling between her breasts until Tom lost sight of them. The gown had forgone it's use, revealing her body to him, clinging to her like transparent, loose skin.

Evelyn's fearful green eyes met his out from under long eyelashes, clumped together by water.

He moved closer with a look of curiosity washed upon his immaculate features, the sound of leather soled oxfords slapping the floor of the cast iron bathtub resounded about the room. The salty scent of Tom mingled with the strong smell of fire whiskey, rolling off of her tongue and into the air. His own breathing hitched slightly, unable to calculate the side effects of standing so closely to her wet body. He peered down at her cowering figure; her face timidly looked up at him, the tips of her front teeth shown out from under her red curled lip, her bated breath caressing the side of his neck. Insuppressible heat concentrated below him and pressed against her cold, winsome body.

Tom wanted to crush her.

Pushing her against the icy tiles, his lips collided roughly against hers, pulsing under the pressure. He released all his anger, his hate for her insolence, and frustrated bewilderment at her power over him.

He both loved and loathed the feeling of submitting to this hormonal weakness.

Tom was delusional if he thought that Evelyn would allow herself to be his play thing, subject to whatever primal whims came upon him. If he was going to forcefully take what he wanted, she was going to make him suffer. Her Slytherin instincts took over and she languidly kissed back, running her tongue along the top of his bottom lip. He pulled her closer to him, his body plastered against hers and she opened the curve of her leg, allowing further access for his growing erection, allowing it to lightly graze against the wet folds of her gown.

This was the very moment she chose to pull away and slipped from between his chest and the wall, gracefully stepping out of the bathtub as if it was nothing.

Tom turned to cast a flustered gaze at her, his gray eyes hooded as they fell upon the wet garment still plastered against her curved frame.

"Getting a little bit ahead of yourself, huh Riddle?" She slinked out of the bathroom without a look back, grinning to herself at the mental image of Tom Riddle standing in the middle of an empty bathtub with an unyielding erection.

Next time he might think twice about trying to punish Evelyn Westwood, she mused.

* * *

A/N: Alright, so there it is. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. So, I hope you see now why I decided to change the rating, just for safety reasons, and because I don't want to get yelled at by some unsuspecting reader. Don't forget to review, and I'll see ya'll later! 

--Aiden I.


	6. Attack

Evelyn blearily opened her eyes; the green curtains of a four poster bed slowly came into focus as she barely remembered getting back to her own bed. The memories of last night came crashing down upon her in the worst way possible as a searing headache threatened to split open her skull.

"Oh my—

Evelyn threw herself to one side of her bed, emptying some of last night's liquids into the floor, just missing her sheets.

"Evelyn!" came the shrill voice of Sylvia from the other side of Evelyn's bed, "Quite the party girl you were! Sorry we had to run like that, but I see you got back okay."

She could only hack and cough in response.

"Are you alright?" she asked suspiciously.

Evelyn quickly grasped her wand to clean up the sick before anyone could see.

"Of course," Evelyn recovered, still leaning with half of her body hanging over the edge of her bed, "just looking for something," she began rummaging around the parchment and quills scattered at her bedside.

"Oh alright…well, anyway, Headmaster Dippet wants to see you in his office."

"What does he want?" she asked irritably, now raking through old chocolate frog wrappers.

"Haven't a clue," she replied casually, "but if he mentions anything about after curfew parties, spare my name, won't you?"

"Oh…sure," Evelyn falsely reassured her. If it in fact did come down to her and Sylvia, she would divulge her dorm mate's name in a heartbeat.

Without another word Sylvia was off, in search of uncharted territory for more parties no doubt.

Waiting for the click of the door, Evelyn peeled off the sheets that had tangled themselves around her and quickly dressed. Pulling her unruly hair back, she wondered anxiously what the verdict was on her potential expulsion. If Riddle had told Dippet about last night's escapades then she might as well already start packing. But maybe he didn't…maybe he thought that if he told, then she would reveal his unorthodox practices or the fact that he had been in the forest that night. She couldn't count on this though, because like he told her in the library, _"Go ahead, no one will believe you anyway." _Evelyn couldn't forget that Tom Riddle had much more influence on the Hogwarts staff than she did. Hell, he probably drank tea with each of them once a week.

With this realization, she shrugged, expecting the absolute worst, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of the Headmaster's office door.

_Clunk, clunk, clunk. _The brass door knocker emitted a dull sound.

"Come in," Dippet said softly.

As Evelyn took a seat in the same short-legged chair, she noticed there were many papers scattered across the Headmaster's desktop, he took one of them and held it up, "These came from your file that the caretaker, Pringle has kept on you."

"File?" Evelyn sneered a little more disrespectfully than she had meant to.

"Yes, Pringle has been keeping files on every offense that every student at Hogwarts has been caught for since they've stepped in this school."

Evelyn's face melted as she recalled with much clarity how many times she had been caught out after curfew, using hexes in the hallways, as well as many other punishable felonies. She could already see the sheen of the ever approaching blade.

"I'm afraid that the evidence is mounted against you," Dippet said matter of factly, though she could have sworn she had detected a tinge of delight.

"Well?" Evelyn asked roughly, now ready to hear it.

"It is by the grace of Merlin that someone here was kind enough to defend your case to me," Dippet shrugged as if he was beginning to regret his decision, "and it has been agreed upon that you will continue your fifth year as previously planned."

Evelyn couldn't believe her ears, she shrunk down in relief and looked to Dippet's downcast face for confirmation as she wasn't sure if she had just imagined him saying that.

"But…who?" she asked skeptically, as she was not aware that _any _professor at Hogwarts liked her enough to defend her, especially not her own Head of House.

"_Who_ helped me arrive to this decision? The only one here that _would _I suppose…Albus Dumbledore."

_Dumbledore? _The name circled around her head in dizzying speeds, _'What did it mean to him?'_

"You escaped expulsion this time, but next time I won't have such a sympathetic ear—don't forget that I'm keeping a close eye on you."

Her heart lifted, she could care less if he was watching her like a hawk, all that mattered was that she was staying, which prolonged her time before life on the streets.

"Well," Dippet rose from his seat quickly, "go along now. I'm sure you have a class you're supposed to be in." He was right, she did have a class to be in, and ironically enough, it was Professor Dumbledore's.

* * *

Evelyn scuffled in to Transfiguration late, trying to make as little noise as possible. Professor Dumbledore graciously ignored her covert entrance, though he was well aware of her added presence. Conversely, Tom Riddle greeted her attendance with the utmost attention, carefully staring at her shrinking figure as she fell into one of the back desks. 

Dumbledore stood in front of the very first desk in the classroom and began to pass out stacks of parchment. Evelyn carelessly reached for the piece of parchment that was being passed to her but almost choked when she realized what it was.

Quiz.

"_Bugger," _she swore under her breath and haphazardly reached for her quill, dipping it in the ink bottle and scribbling her name at the top of the parchment.

Her eyes quickly scanned down the quiz, trying to spot which questions she knew the answer to.

_What are the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?_

'_One of them is…food, but what are the others?' _

_In what year did Gamp discover the first exception?_

_Explain in detail how one is to transfigure a beetle into a bowl._

Her eyes quickly scanned over the questions again and again, knowing that if it wasn't clouded with thoughts of Tom and disinheritance, they might be hidden in the back of her mind.

_Why are there only—_

_Who was the first—_

She read them off so quickly that they became a dizzying bevy of whos, whats, whens, and wheres. Evelyn desperately glanced over to her right, Malfoy wouldn't be her first choice but he would have to do. This proved useless upon remembering that Abraxas was left handed and covered his answers with his left hand as he wrote them in.

"I am going to have to ask you to pass your papers to the front."

Evelyn growled in irritation as she threw her quill down on the desk and noisily stuffed her paper in the hand of a Hufflepuff who was seated in front of her.

"If everyone will place last night's homework on my desk, then you may all leave."

Everyone stood up at once, racing to his front desk to deposit their homework and hastily exit the classroom. Evelyn was the exception as she lazily turned in her half-finished homework and was about to pass through the arched doorway when a hand lightly touched her shoulder.

She whirled around, meeting someone she had not expected.

"Can I see you in my office?" Dumbledore asked her softly.

Her heart jumped into her throat, had he seen her trying to cheat?

"Oh…of course."

She followed his withered frame into the warm light of his office and sat in an overstuffed chair adjacent to his desk.

He sat behind his own desk with the tips of his fingers pushed against one another and looking over his half-moon spectacles he said, "I couldn't help but notice that you were having difficulty taking the quiz this afternoon."

She should have known; nothing slipped past Dumbledore.

"Moreover, I happened to glimpse a certain homework assignment from you that was barely attempted. While bad quiz grades and unfinished homework is certainly nothing new at Hogwarts, I didn't expect this sort of behavior from you."

While it was well known that Evelyn may have been lacking in other areas of academia at Hogwarts, in actuality she rather enjoyed Transfiguration and found that it came very easy to her, earning her some of the top marks in her class.

"Well, it's just…" she stopped for a moment, looking for an excuse other than, _'I was at a party last night of which broke more than ten school rules at the very least.' _Then a genius idea suddenly came to her, "it's…well, it's really nothing," she hinted, hoping that it was enough to encourage him to prod.

"So you find this level of Transfiguration too difficult for you?—Because if that's the case, then I can find someone to tutor you, in fact, I could possibly—

"It's not the work Professor," she corrected, trying to steer him in the right direction, "I just have a lot on my mind right now."

"So personal problems are distracting you?"

She only nodded, hoping to Merlin that he would ask what they were.

"I will not inquire as to the nature of them, but remember that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

Evelyn mentally shrugged, that was not at _all _what she was hoping to hear.

"Er…it's nothing that Hogwarts can help me with—unless—" she quickly cut herself off, as if stopping herself from asking something foolish.

"Unless what my dear?"

Jackpot.

"Look professor," she decided to end the run around, "I know that this is something you can't help me with, but my parents disinherited me, so after this term is up, I don't even know where I'm gonna go," her big eyes sparkled with farce tears.

"I see," his eyes roamed over her, appraising the situation, "there is _one _thing that I can do."

Evelyn lifted her head to show interest.

"I can bring it before the Headmaster."

The answer was the very last thing she wanted.

"Oh I'm sure he'll wanna help," she said forgetting her place, "he was, after all, the one that get me into this mess," she mumbled inaudibly.

"I beg your pardon Miss Westwood, but my hearing isn't what it used to be," he stated earnestly.

"Oh!—It was nothing."

Satisfied with this answer he began again, "So is that a fair trade? You supply the grades and I'll see if I can plead your case."

"Thank you Professor!" she feigned gratitude, very doubtful that Dumbledore would be able to do anything, though she did accomplish one thing. Dumbledore was now aware of the situation and that might factor in to the severity in which he graded her papers.

Sob stories gained sympathy points from most all professors with Tom, so why shouldn't it work for her?

She tried to leave the Transfiguration classroom for the second time when she was once again unable to do so by a flustered looking Professor Merrythought who pushed her side, barreling into Dumbledore's office.

"Albus! Hurry!" she huffed, "A student—injured in the bathroom!"

Evelyn immediately stopped dead in her tracks, allowing them entry into the hallway, moving as fast as she had ever seen them.

The two professors were in too much of a hurry to realize that Evelyn was trailing closely behind them.

The all arrived on the scene where an ever growing group of students were pushing each other, trying to see through the doorway while various prefects shouted at them to move along.

The crowd parted for Dumbledore and Merrythought as they made their way into the fourth floor bathroom; Evelyn trying to slide through as well. Some of the students started to clear away at the insistence of the prefects, but she kept her head down and pushed her way into the crowd.

"Did anyone see how this happened?" Dumbledore looked to the crowd, but no one could provide an answer. Evelyn tried to peer over other students' head, her five foot, four inch frame did not help matters.

"Who found her?" Merrythought asked.

"I did," a small Gryffindor girl stepped forward and answered meekly, "I was going to the bathroom during class and she was lying on the floor, in front of the sink."

"It could be a stunning spell," Dumbledore suggested calmly.

"I suppose it's worth a try," Professor Merrythought added and raised her wand, _"Rennervate!"_

A white light shot out of Professor Merrythought's wand, but the girl did not stir.

Evelyn was still trying to force her way thought the tightly-knit crowd when she felt her hand being tugged and her body was immediately propelled forward. The anonymous hand belonged to that of Tom Riddle who was now standing beside her at the very front of the mob of students.

Her surprise of seeing him again could not parallel the tightness of her throat as she recognized the Ravenclaw's prefect's badge lying on the floor.

She gasped at the sight of Margaret's brown hair, framing her pale face as she lay motionless, staring at Evelyn with large glassy eyes from the bathroom floor.

"We should take her to Madam Pince immediately," said Professor Merrythought.

"_Levicorpus," _with a flick of the wand Dumbledore lifted the stiff body of Margaret, her hair rippling under her as if floating on a gust of wind. The crowd parted once more, allowing her body to pass through the center of it and down the hall towards the hospital wing, Dumbledore and Merrythought closely following it.

Tom Riddle snapped out of the trance he seemed to be in and turned to the rest of the students, "Slytherins—back to the common room. The rest of you should do the same," he commanded. Everyone looked to one another questioningly but ultimately dispersed in different directions to their corresponding houses.

"What could have done this?" Evelyn asked aloud, still rooted to the spot.

"No one knows," came the dark voice of Tom, echoing off of the stone walls of the bathroom, "it seems like everyone was in class at the time of the attack—

"Attack?" she turned to look at his imposing figure.

"Well _something _must have attacked her."

"Or someone, is more like it," Evelyn added.

"You knew her?" he stood a little too close for comfort and memories of the previous night came flooding back.

"Uhm…" her heart threatened to leap out of her chest, "yeah, we were best—we've known each other," she added, remembering their current status.

* * *

A/N: Sorry everyone. I know it took a while to update this one, but one of my friends needed a place to stay for a while, so I've been playing hostess, and you know how that goes... It's been increasingly difficult for me to write since she has been here, so that's the reason for the delay. I promise things will get a little more interesting in the next chapter--I know there wasn't a whole lot of Tom in this one. :( Sorry. Please review!

Thanks,

Aiden I.


	7. Invitation

"I'm sure you're both wondering why you're in my office."

Evelyn looked to her left to meet the smoldering stare of Tom Riddle who was staring right back at her.

"It's because I have some good…and possibly bad news for you," Armando Dippet surveyed the two Slytherins sitting in front of him.

Evelyn shrugged, potential expulsions once again danced around her head--but if that was true, then what did he need Tom for?

Maybe he knew about the night in the bathrooms and was just now getting around to interrogating them. She glanced back at Tom for some sort of reassurance that he may have the same fear, but his defined profile showed that he was ignoring her.

"And what would that be Headmaster Dippet?" Tom asked with a small smile, already laying on the Riddle charm.

Dippet grinned appreciatively back at him and answered, "Well my boy, it seems that I have a proposition for you--for the both of you actually."

"By way of Albus Dumbledore," Dippet now acknowledged Evelyn's presence for the first time since she had stepped into the room, "it has come to my attention that you are in need of a place to stay after the last quarter is finished. Is that correct?"

"Yes sir," she nodded.

"And _you,_" he gestured to Tom, "have always sought a place here in the summer."

"Of course Headmaster. Hogwarts is more of my home than any other place in the world and it would be not only an honor, but a privilege to be able to stay here."

Evelyn wondered if she was supposed to applaud his little adoration speech of Hogwarts, as she had never felt so congenial towards the place of learning herself.

"So…what are you getting at?" Evelyn destroyed the mood with that simple question.

"If you will kindly allow me to speak Miss Westwood, I will gladly tell you."

She glowered at him, but closed her mouth, noting with much annoyance what supreme satisfaction Tom gained from seeing her shut up.

"Since it is my understanding that one of Hogwart's finest students--

Three guesses as to which one that referred to.

"--as well as another student is in need of the school's services…I have decided to extend them to both of you. Because it would be unfair to allow one of you to occupy the school for the summer and not the other, I am giving you both the invitation to stay."

Tom appeared rather smug, as if somehow all of this was _his _doing, but Evelyn stared in disbelief, allowing her jaw to drop somewhat.

"No Headmaster has ever allowed students to stay at Hogwarts before, but as both of you are under somewhat unique circumstances, I am going to allow this to be tried for the summer."

She finally understood why he would do such a thing; considering Dippet wasn't usually known for his benevolence. He was probably hoping that the _Daily Prophet _would catch wind of it and then exhibit a whole write-up on his limitless charity and Armando Dippet would be etched into a silver plaque under the title _"Most Compassionate Headmaster Known to Hogwarts" _where it would be eternally hung over the Headmaster's desk.

"I am willing to allow you to both stay on the condition--

There was _always _a but.

"--that both of you enroll in some sort of labor oriented activity within Hogwarts."

"You want us to _work?_" The word rolled off of Evelyn's tongue with such a foreign feel as if she could barely get it out.

"I shouldn't think we should stay if we weren't able to pay it back in some way," Tom stated calmly as if the negotiation was completely reasonable.

"That's the spirit Mr. Riddle!" He smiled even broader at Tom, his beard slightly parting.

"So you mean," Evelyn snapped Dippet out of his moment of worship, causing him to stare at her as if the very sound of her voice was terribly grating, "that we can stay here if we're your little house elves?"

"Of course not," Dippet snorted at her phrasing.

"Oh, ok," Evelyn's attitude reared it's insupressible head, "I must have completely misinterpreted that then."

"I am afraid you didn't Miss Westwood. I do mean that you should work, but you will be able to choose what you would like to do for the summer."

"House elves by choice then."

Tom sat back, enjoying the side long view of his fellow Slytherin that he assumed by carelessly placing his elbow on the armrest and leaning the side of his face on the tops of his knuckles. He studied her face; the color of blood rose in her pale cheeks, eyes flashed. Eventually the sound of their combating voices faded between his ears and he imagined that same flushed face, heavily breathing. His expressionless eyes traveled up her blonde tresses of hair, imagining what they might look like fanned out underneath him, her glowing cheeks set perfectly under her burning brown eyes that might look up at him with awe and wonder. A wonder of how he could make her so breathless. He noticed how her delicate fingers firmly gripped the arm of the chair and wondered how they might feel gripping his now growing erection. Her soft hands lightly grazing the very bare skin--would he allow her to be soft with him? He asked himself this question as he knew that _he _would be the one to dictate all matters concerning the bedroom---or wherever he chose to carry out the necessary actions.

His ever searching eyes now roamed the blank expanses of her white blouse, following the pearly buttons upward, clearly remembering what she looked like with barely anything covering her. The way her chest rose and fell in a frenzy of labored breathing, he knew that he could do that to her as well--_easily_--he mused.

Her neck was a like a marble column jutting out of her crisp collar. He could almost hear the low moaning of his own name--"_Tom!"--_vibrate from within that throat.

Evelyn's reddened lips stayed pursed as Dippet railed against her, though Tom cared not for what he said, he was transfixed by how her lips might feel--moist and supple on his own mouth--if he allowed her to kiss him, that is.

Tom was most unhappy that the fantasy had to be interrupted by Dippet's inclusion of him back into the conversation, "Anyway Tom, if _you _would like to stay here and work for the summer, then I would be happy to have you, but if Miss Westwood here insists on having things her way then she will not be able to join you."

"Thank you Headmaster Dippet," Tom tried his hardest to mask the clouded look in his own eyes.

"There is _one _thing that could become a hindrance for this little agreement," Dippet's appearance turned grave, "the very matter at hand."

Both Slytherins were now completely attentive, sitting straight up in their chairs, Tom crossing his legs.

"As I'm sure you both have heard, there is something happening around the deserted corridors of Hogwarts that has yet to be solved. Yesterday a Ravenclaw prefect of all people, was stunned by someone and we have not been able to identify who or what is behind it. She is being held in the infirmary for the time being--hopefully we will have some answers as soon as she is able to speak."

"So she will be okay?" Evelyn asked, her face etched in true concern.

"Yes, of course. She just has to come around and she'll be fine, but I'm afraid that I can't allow _anyone_ to stay here while such a thing is continuing."

"Continuing?" Tom asked, diverting any attention that could possibly be directed towards his painfully obvious lap.

Dippet looked apprehensively around the room, his hazel eyes shifted to some of the past Headmaster's portraits.

"It seems that a second student has succumbed to another one of these…attacks."

"Another one?" Evelyn spat in outrage, "but who?"

"That's classified information Miss Westwood, so you best keep your inquiries to yourself," Dippet reprimanded her, feeling as if that might get the conversation under control, "So until this mess is sorted out, no one is staying anywhere."

"Of course Headmaster--a very wise decision," Tom chimed in.

"As I believe it to be," Dippet added with finality, "that is all I wished to discuss with the both of you. Consider what I have said and make your decision, though I warn you, if a solution isn't found soon for our _mystery_, this entire settlement is out of the question. Good night Mr. Riddle. Goodnight Miss Westwood."

"Goodnight Headmaster," they both echoed back to him.

Evelyn slowly followed Tom out into the dark corridor, walking silently beside him. She enjoyed the dimly lit halls at night, accented by beautiful candelabras that were placed between the slumbering portraits. Occasionally some of them would pipe up at the sight of Tom, smiling and waving gracefully to him. Evelyn imagined that following him around all day might resemble a one man parade.

She waited until they were well away from these often prying eyes to speak.

"I bet you _would _like to know how my body would feel writhing beneath yours," Evelyn whispered into the darkness and sealed it with a smirk.

Tom immediately stopped in the middle of the hallway, swallowing hard and stared at her for a moment as he felt the entirety of his senses failing.

_How the hell did she know that? _It never occurred to him that his knew found legilimency skills needed to be honed. While he was able to turn it on, what if he couldn't turn it off and consequently she had been able to see his thoughts in Dippet's office? Did he send them to her by accident?

"It never occurred to you that _I_ might be an Legilimens, did it?"

He had to admit, he attributed this leak of information to his mistake rather than her ability.

"Legilimens--_you?_" He couldn't disguise the look of disbelief plastered across his face.

"Don't sound so amazed," Evelyn scoffed as if it were nothing.

"I'm not," Tom corrected her, "I just can't imagine how you could acquire such a skill as Legilimency, especially considering your academic…record."

"Academics has nothing to do with it. My bastard father taught me," she spoke the profanity as if it were an endearment.

Tom did not care _who_ taught her Legilimency at such a young age, he was more concerned that she never do it again.

"Listen to me," Tom grounded out the words through barred teeth and gripped her arm, "I don't know what it is that you're _doing _to me, but I'm warning you--come across me again, and I won't have any mercy on you."

He stared her down with eyes reflecting such primal lust that it could not be ignored.

"_Oh Tom," _she jestingly feigned a throaty moan, much like in his day dream, _"please don't have mercy on me--you know how I like it rough," _she could now barely suppress a laugh.

Tom didn't seem to find it as funny as the sound of her lips uttering his name like that, even if it wasn't real, catalyzed new stirrings between his thighs.

Before she could carry on the joke a second longer Tom pushed her roughly against the dark cherry wood wall, her hair contrasting strikingly against it, and drew her in to a series of heated kisses, crushing his lips against hers. He shivered at the touch of her fingers scraping across the back of his scalp and down his neck. He would show her rough.

Tom's skillful fingers greedily pressed upon every inch of skin they could find, traveling down the small of her back until they found the waist band of her skirt.

Evelyn gasped at the icy touch of his fingers directly on her spine and her stomach fluttered in anticipation as they lightly grazed her skin upwards, now pressing against her projecting shoulder blades.

They both seemed to have forgotten themselves as Tom's mouth traveled southward, falling off of her lips and down her slender neck as his fingers stretched themselves around her small frame, now sliding to the front of her ribcage.

The tugging of the straps of her bra caused her hooded eyes to fly open as she had just realized what and where she was.

"Is that how you think it's gonna be?"

Tom immediately stopped his assault on her collar bone to look up at her, now raising to his full height.

"That you can just manhandle me however you like?"

"Yes," he answered breathily, a sable lock of hair fell into his eyes.

"You might want to think twice then," she shot back haughtily and backed away from him.

He couldn't surmise _how _she could possibly refuse him. He was superior to her in every way imaginable except--

"Is that what you think?"

"What?" she spat back at him, running a hand through her hair.

"That you are in some way superior to me," he stated as if such a thing were to be considered blasphemous.

"Possibly," she fired back.

"Well, you'll soon find out how wrong you are Evelyn Westwood. Just because you have pureblood running through your veins and a large sum of money in a vault somewhere doesn't make you superior to _me. _There will come a day when you will beg for me--

"A day that must be very far off."

"And I _will _have you," his wondering hand found it's way up her skirt and across her outer thigh, but she did nothing to stop it.

Her laugh was cold and high, reverberating off of the dark corridors of Hogwarts.

"_You, _Tom Riddle, will _never _have me. I will never be yours for the mere fact that you want me."

She reached down between his legs, easily finding his half stiff arousal, "You might want to get that in check," she ran her hand tightly across it, hardening it more and slipped away from him, disappearing into the night.

Evelyn may have eluded him for the time being, but he would make her submit to him.

* * *

A/N: Hey everyone, I know it's back to school time, so I've tried to get everything ready before then. Have a good day and please review!

Thanks,

Aiden I.


	8. Enough

"Look…I'm really sorry Margaret. What I did to you was wrong," Evelyn looked away for a moment as she had never been very good at apologizing and she wanted this to seem as convincing as possible except the look on her face wasn't helping matters. She didn't feel truly sorry but she couldn't bare being on anyone's hate list.

"Are you just saying this because you thought I was on my death bed and you didn't want to have it on your conscience?" she looked up at Evelyn from the rickety infirmary bed, much like she had done from the floor that day.

Sometimes Margaret knew her too well.

"Well--NO!" she fired defensively, "I was really worried about you. You _could've _died, but luckily you didn't."

"So did Dippet send you or something?" Margaret asked dryly, betraying her angelic looks created by the pouring sunlight from the window on the east side of the infirmary.

Evelyn's eyebrows knitted together dramatically, appalled that her friend would think such a thing and even more so at the prospect of it being on _Dippet's _behalf.

"Oh Margaret, you know me better than that. I'm no one's messenger girl, especially not _his."_

"Oh…" she sighed, "I figured he might have sent you as some sort of good will ambassador to ask me questions."

The legs of Evelyn's chair scraped across the stone floor as she pulled it closer to Margaret's bedside, "Well, since you mention it…"

"What?" Margaret spat at her willingness to hear the latest news.

"Well…" she egged on unashamedly, "what happened?"

"Well, I was…you know…"

Evelyn shook her head for Margaret to continue.

"Going to the bathroom…I walked out of the stall and to the sink to wash my hands. I was turning off the faucet and I looked in the mirror and I saw…"

"What?—What did you see?"

"I saw…" Margaret's hands opened up as if the word escaped her literal grasp, "I don't know. I don't know what it was…"

"It wasn't a person was it?" Evelyn was now leaning over the handrail of the bed, blocking the sunlight from Margaret's face.

"No…at least not any person I've ever seen. It was some sort of creature, but I can't be sure—I just know that it wasn't human."

"Riddle guessed that—

"_Riddle?_ Tom Riddle?" Margaret's eyes crinkled in disbelief.

"Yes, Tom Riddle—

"Why were you talking to _him_?"

"Because he's in my bloody house!" Evelyn half shouted at her, her patience quickly growing thin on the matter. She knew exactly why Margaret found this a particular point of interest. Margaret and Tom had been scholastic rivals since they set foot in Hogwarts and she obviously saw it as some sort of betrayal that Evelyn had fraternized with him.

"So what are you doing hanging around him anyhow?" Margaret inquired suspiciously.

"Looking for a new best friend," Evelyn let the catty remark slip through her teeth, immediately thinking better of it as soon as she heard it out of her own mouth.

"Well if that's the case," Margaret raised from her bed slowly, like a frail, eldarly woman, "then you best go back to him and let me rest in peace!"

"You're not _dying _Margaret, besides, I didn't come here to fight, ok?"

"Ok," Margaret repeated tersely, not fully believing it.

"Whether you want to believe me or not," she stated matter of factly, standing up from her chair, "I am glad you're okay, and I was worried about you," she gave her friend one last, quick nod and turned to leave. Though she would have hated to admit it, Margaret wistfully watched her one true friend leave her bedside, not taking her eyes off of Evelyn's back until she passed through the infirmary's doors.

Once outside, Evelyn quietly made her way back to the Slytherin common room. Even if there was a ravenous creature roaming the halls, her professors could be just as bad if she failed to turn in any homework the next day. She recalled her chilling interview with Margaret, wondering if the creature could still be about. She cautiously looked around, making sure to glance over her shoulder every few moments. A distinct clicking noise reached her ears and she immediately froze.

Her heart beat quickened to an untraceable rate and she slowly turned her face to take another look down the presumably empty corridor behind her. As far as she could see, there was nothing—but the clicking noise persisted.

She turned her head forward with her first inclination to scream.

"Let go of me!" she thrashed about, "Please!" her voice elevated to a screech as her robes swished around while she tried to wrench herself free as he dragged her into a deserted classroom.

"No!" Tom barked in her ear and slammed the door behind them, taking extra care to lock it, "How does it feel?"

"What?" the word floated out of her throat like a whisper from a confused child as she was momentarily sedated, breathing hard and staring into his dark orbs that gleamed with malicious intent.

"How do you like being…_trapped?_"

"You'll_ never_ trap me."

"I already have, my dear," he answered nonchalantly, "you think you could just go along—toying with me," he gritted his teeth and twisted her arms tighter behind her, "obviously you didn't expect there to be…any…" he tightened his grip with the grounding out of each word, "repercussions." She winced in pain but fought from crying out.

"Get off of me," she cried weakly and turned her head, determined not to meet his gaze and trying to make as much space between them as possible. Her own hand languidly reached for the wand that was slightly projecting from the waistband of her skirt, stretching her fingers desperately to reach it.

"I'll be taking that," Tom quickly snatched it away from her grasp and pocketed it, "I'm sure this all seemed innocent to you…but you see, you have something that I want…"

"What is it?" Evelyn still turned her face away from him. He whispered a spell and her hands stayed glued to her sides.

"Look at me!" he cupped her chin, forcing it forward and in a completely calm voice, he continued, "You're withholding a piece of information from me that could be vital…and it seems that my other…methods have proved unsatisfactory," his calculating eyes surveyed her with interest and his long digits caressed her pale skin.

"What do you want to know?" she was now regaining her voice and a small ounce of courage.

"What do you know about Horcuxes?"

"I don't know what you mean," she whispered.

"You know _perfectly _what I mean," he reached for her striped school tie and casually pulled open the knot, tossing it to the floor.

"What are you doing?" blood rushed to the surface of her cheeks and a look of alarm flashed in her bright eyes.

"We'll see how many times it takes to get this right," he answered vaguely, "Who first told you about Horcruxes?"

"_I told you that I don't know anything about them and that I've never heard of them before!"_ she protested, hoping that her oblivious act would ring true.

He now slipped her robes off of her shoulders and let them cascade to the floor, all the while she could only stand there under the spell and watch.

"You most certainly have. You've spoken of them before—to me."

Evelyn's mind reeled through her memory for a time when she mentioned them in his presence, unable to come up with an answer she could only stare at him inquisitively.

"The night that I caught you in the Room of Requirement—

Her eyes widened as she was barely able to recall it now—she _had_ spoken of them, "That was the alcohol talking!"

"Possibly," he sighed, unbuttoning her oxford shirt, "but I highly doubt _that_ because I have reason to believe you know more than you're letting on. On more than one occasion you've displayed your underlying abilities."

Evelyn's heart raced as she realized that revealing that she was a legilimens had been a horrible mistake.

He ran his elongated finger lightly across the top of her bottom lip, "Wish you had kept your little mouth shut, hmm? Well…maybe it would be better suited for something other than talking?" he added suggestively and shoved his finger past her lips, entering her mouth.

Tom discovered his own mistake in doing this; trembling for as moment as the resulting image affected him more than he had anticipated.

Her brain racked through every piece of knowledge she could conjure, looking for something that would provide a believable basis for a lie.

"Don't even think about lying to me," he recovered from his highly aroused reverie, pulling his finger from between her lips.

Damn, the very moment that she let her guard down he was already pervading her thoughts. He was running out of buttons on her blouse and she was running out of time.

"Okay! Listen!" she proclaimed loudly, stopping him for the moment, "…I think I read about them in a book somewhere."

"What book?" Tom asked fiercely, flashing an eye out from under his shadow-clad visage.

"In-in our textbook," she feigned earnestly.

"_Liar!"_ the mixture of his growl and her scream reverberated around the empty room as he ripped the bottom of her blouse open, buttons showering to the floor with her shirt. Evelyn was determined at all costs not to cry—crying would signal that he won and she was _not _going to let him win this.

* * *

A/N: I know it's horrible, but I must leave you there because I'm sending off my laptop tomorrow because I accidentally broke a key off of it—I know, I'm really clumsy… 


	9. Interrogation

He was immediately caught off guard by the heaving chest that lay beneath the ripped blouse. The milky color of her half exposed breasts expanding and contracting under the lacy cups. He swallowed down his rationality for a moment—the mere sight of breasts had not caused him to react so, but more of the fact that they were _hers_.

_Now, _they were on a level playing field. Evelyn threw her chest out a little bit, allowing him to take in the image a little more, alluring him closer and asking him to go further.

"_C'mon Riddle…" _her syrupy voice dripped into his ear,_"let me free…and I might show you a little more…" _her voice tempted like a siren as she tilted her head slightly upward, spindling it so that the soft skin of her neck was stretched to it's full length and her painted red lips were inches from his pursed ones.

He seemed to completely snap from his stimulated trance, his eyes blinked, then dilated as he pulled her so roughly by the waistband of her pleated skirt she was sure she heard some of the seams split, "I don't need permission from _you._"

How dare he! The mere concept outraged her. He_ actually_ thought that her body was to be subject to whatever he pleased! The gall of such a statement was so appalling that she could not hide the blood boiling in her cheeks no matter how much she tried. His other hand didn't help to diffuse the coloration as it glided up the back of her leg, a long finger hooked under the lining of her panties, following the curve of it up until he cupped one of her cheeks.

"Now," he smacked her on the bottom and she stood up straighter as a small cry of surprise left her lips, "You may want to answer _truthfully _soon, or you might find yourself lacking some…unmentionables," he smirked the same self-satisfied grin that most girls swooned over, the gleaming pearl of his teeth slithered through the small gap of his lips as he stared her down.

"How could you _possibly _expect me to cooperate in this situation—

"Oh, you will," he cut in, his dark eyebrows jumped up to emphasize his point.

"But why? Why do you need me?" she begin again with the annoying questions, hoping to buy some time to think of an escape plan that was looking further and further away as every minute ticked by.

"I've already told you," Tom replied harshly, grabbing her by the straps of her bra and jerking her forward, "because I need the information that you have and I _will _find a way to get it from you."

"B-but," her rouge colored lips stumbled over something else to say as she had been shaken by his harsh rattling, "surely there….surely there is someone else that can help you. I-I don't really know anything, I've only heard…" she spoke timidly, betraying her true character that had been inevitably exposed to him the night before—haughty and contemptuous, she had once looked down on him for his inferior blood heritage but now found herself at his complete mercy.

"Only heard what?" Tom asked, his face softening as if turning a switch on and off, he once again assumed the role of Tom Riddle, the charmer. Of course by now Evelyn was well aware of the falsity of this façade, but decided to go along with it anyway.

"I've only heard that making a horcrux is a very powerful thing, but it's also very dangerous, as it can't be reversed—as much as you know I'm sure…"

"Of course I know that…" he answered delicately, as if speaking to a lover, "but I need to know more…tell me all that you know…" as he articulated this, his hand found itself once again exploring the silky skin of the uncharted areas of her inner thigh, "tell me Evelyn," his fingers ran along the creases of her legs, and slowly found their way onto her panties.

"My Grandfather!" she blurted out at the intrusion.

"Yes?" Tom paused any movement to inquire, "and what about him?" he resumed his encircling of his index finger, feeling the warm and wet flesh between her legs through the thin underwear. He drew tantalizing figures, pressing and dragging his talented fingers over every nerve ending on her clitoris.

The pleasure from his ministrations became distracting for Evelyn to be able to answer anything, "He went to Durmstrang and met him there while he was at school," she answered quickly, as if her memory was struggling to run away from her.

"Who is him?" he asked softly still, slowly allowing his fingers access to where he pleased.

"Grindelwald," she answered breathily, closing her eyes as she heard her own heart beating furiously, almost blocking out Tom's serpentine voice entirely.

"_Grindelwald?"_ Tom stopped completely, like bringing a locomotive that had been going full speed ahead, he brought his wheeling mind to a screeching halt. This inquisition was beginning to reap him more rewards than he had previously thought.

"Yes…before he was what he is now…" she closed her eyes again, trying not to focus on the feeling between her thighs, "that's where it all began…my grandfather's dabbling in the dark arts began after he met him in school."

"Is that so?" Tom queried with interest, now rubbing his finger faster over the enflamed nub, feeling the wetness beginning to seep through the fabric and on to his own fingers.

"Yes!" she almost cried out.

His fingers circled faster and faster.

"So he was the one that told you about horcruxes?"

"Yes…" she gasped.

They were now working at a dizzying pace.

"Did he tell you exactly what they are used for?"

"Yes," she almost doubled over from the weakness she was feeling in her knees but instead collided with his chest, hanging her head on his shoulder as his long digits unrelentingly doled out the pleasure she so desperately felt that she needed.

"Did he tell you how many one could make?"

"Yes," she moaned.

_Faster._

"Did he tell you how it could be done?"

_Faster._

His fingers slid between her folds so easily as they were now completely soaked.

"Yes," she squeaked, breathing as hard as her lungs allowed her to.

_Faster._

Tom could tell that he almost had her right where he wanted her as she began bucking her hips to him. She moaned softly at the small release he gave her and she fell against him once again. He placed his hand on the back of her head, secretively sneering at how easily she had broken for him, though he was not done with her yet as she still had so much more specific information he needed, and getting her to confess to knowing of it was only a start.

Evelyn noticed with much interest that the locking spell on her arms had been removed and took what little window of opportunity had been open to her. While Tom was too busy reveling in his victory over her, she quickly reached for her wand that was protruding out of his pocket, whipping it in front of her and using it to push him away from her.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Evelyn screamed, sending Tom flying back. In the few moments that he was reeling from what had just happened, she grabbed her robe from the floor, and wrapped it tightly around her to conceal the tattered garments underneath.

"_Alohomora!" _The latch on the door swung open and she jerked at the door knob, frantically trying to get it open. Just as it creaked open, she heard Tom mutter something, and before she could completely clear the door, his spell forcefully pummeled into her back, sending sparks flying through her veins as it coursed through her body. She fell against the entranceway, the weight of her body opening it as she stumbled out of the classroom and into the empty hallway. Clutching her robes tightly together, she half expected Riddle to be chasing after her, but when she chanced a glance over her shoulder, she was relieved to find that he wasn't.

Evelyn made a conscious effort to slow her breathing and began to walk again in case she came upon more students, not wanting them to suspect anything out of the ordinary. Before reaching the Slytherin common room, she stopped in front of a gold framed mirror that was hanging in the hallway to check her appearance. She combed down her hair with her fingers, hoping to Merlin that no one could have any guesses as to what she and Tom had been doing just moments before. Aside from the fact that she was holding her robes closely together, everything looked rather normal…unless…

She quickly spun around, then checked her profile from the side to make sure Tom's last spell that had hit her dead on—no less—had not developed any side effects, as most spells did. As closer inspections revealed, and most of all to her astonishment, she could see no change in her appearance or anywhere on her body for that matter. Curiously, she wondered exactly _what _that spell was intended to do, but maybe, she reasoned, it merely backfired and did nothing other than push her into the door.

* * *

A/N : I wrote this chapter fairly quickly actually, I just hadn't had the time to really work on it, sorry :( I'm sorry if there's any spelling mistakes, make sure to point them out to me so that I can correct them. Sorry that the chapter is sort of short, but it's filled with lots of action! So hopefully that makes up for it. Thanks for reading and please Review! 


	10. Edith Snellgrove

"Can you help me carry my books?" Margaret glanced hopefully at her Slytherin friend who was busying herself with combing her fingers through her own blonde curls.

"Aren't you better yet?" Evelyn grumbled and piled Margaret's books on top of her own in the towering stack that she was already carrying. She immediately dropped the accusation at the sight of a certain Slytherin prefect who was walking a few steps ahead of them towards Slughorn's classroom.

They followed him into the classroom and were met with the curious eyes of every student in the room. Evelyn froze. What were they all staring at? Her mind reeled back to the mysterious spell that had been cast on her from the other day. She whirled around to Margaret to see if anything reflected in her friend's eyes signaling that something was wrong that she herself could not see. That was when she realized that they weren't staring at her.

Margaret gazed fearfully back at the students that were currently making her feel like a bug in a bottle.

Evelyn glared at a Ravenclaw boy that was sitting close to the doorway, still gawking at her friend unabashedly, "Hey! If you really want something odd to stare at, you'll look in the mirror," she growled at him and he sneered back at her.

An awkward silence followed the two students to their seats near the back of the classroom. Some classmates possessing less tact turned around to get one last glance of "the petrified girl".

"Haven't you had a proper stare yet?" The offending students quickly snapped back around at Evelyn's vehement inquiry and Margaret appreciatively smiled at her friend's diversion.

"Everyone! Everyone settle down!" exclaimed Slughorn boisterously, as if anyone had been actually talking, "It is with great pleasure that we greet Miss Bourne back to Potions after her extended stay in the infirmary." The students seemed to be imitating stone statues as their eyes were glazed over from the early time of day, "Please take out your textbooks and join us at page two twenty-five."

A chorus of students who noisily flipped through the weathered pages of their books quietly swept across the classroom as Evelyn and Margaret pulled out their own. Evelyn lazily rolled her eyes across the pictures of Dr. Ubbly and his famous "Oblivious Unction" potion. She threw her chin into her hands, framing her jaw with a V shape and rested her elbows on the table top as she began reading.

_Euphoria: An Elixir to Induce_

_Ingredients include:_

_Sprig of Peppermint_

_Chopped daisy roots_

_Egg of Doxy_

_This famous Elixir was first conceived by the notable Potions Inventor, Sacharissa Tugwood, who at the time, was well known for her beautifying potions. The Euphoria Elixir was invented in 1914 during the muggle's "Great War" as a way to help lift and keep the Wizarding population's spirits up during this tumultuous time in European history. Her gravestone reads, "Thanks to Sacharissa Tugwood, the world is a more beautiful place," five years after, an amendment was made with the addition of "and a happier one."_

At the completion of this sentence Evelyn's brown eyes had almost closed completely when she felt a jolt shoot up her spine. She almost jumped in response and quietly surveyed the room to see if anyone had witnessed it, though everyone seemed oblivious as they still had their heads buried in their textbooks just as she had done moments before.

"That was…strange," she whispered to herself quietly, wondering what had just happened.

"Hm?" her friend piped up at the whisper that she wasn't supposed to hear.

"Oh…it's nothing," Evelyn answered nonchalantly and turned to the next page, "I just felt some sort of…pain in my back."

"Are you okay?" she whispered, looking sincerely alarmed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was nothing," Evelyn quickly waved it away and Margaret returned to her reading material.

_'It was nothing,' _she repeated to herself and continued her own reading as well.

_The effect of this Elixir induces euphoria in the drinker, with occasional side effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking (the peppermint would tend to counterbalance that effect.) When correctly made—_

Evelyn sharply inhaled at the feeling intruding upon her again. What she had first diagnosed as pain began to form into something else. Tightly squeezing her legs together, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach and the quivering between her legs. Gasping, she quickly cupped her mouth and tried to pass it off as a coughing fit in a desperate attempt to hide the shock of pleasure that she felt in her breasts, as if they were being fondled by an unseen hand. She crossed her hands over her chest, as if to block the indulgent source.

_When correctly made the potion assumes a sunshine-yellow c-c-color—_

She could no longer ignore the pounding gratification between her wet lips of her inner flesh and slid her own hand under her skirt to feel the saturated state of her underwear.

_'What's happening?' _she looked around frantically, as if hoping the answer would jump out in front of her—and it did. While the other students quietly read their books, Tom Riddle sat back in his chair, as if enjoying the view. Her eyes grew wide and her bottom lip slightly fell as they were the only two people in the room. Her nipples became hard pebbles under the unrelenting pleasure being inflicted upon them and she quietly moaned, once again coughing it away.

Evelyn caught Slughorn eyeing her from his desk and she turned around pretending to read her textbook once again. The scraping of her chair legs across the floor rang out as she involuntarily pushed herself harshly into the back at the feeling of something hard between her legs of which she was certain was not actually there.

Evelyn hung her head as she sprang out of her chair and excused herself from the classroom. She could hear the protests of Slughorn being hurled at her back but didn't even look over her shoulder as she practically ran out into the corridor.

Slamming the door shut to the bathroom stall, her harsh breathing and her heartbeat she swore was audible, was masked by the atrocious whimpering of Myrtle.

_'Merlin's beard! Doesn't that awful girl ever shut up?' _There she was, with a crisis on her hands and she could barely think for the sound of Myrtle's crying.

"Isn't your crying abode in the _second _floor bathroom?" Myrtle's morbid episodes were _that _famous.

Myrtle sniffled and cleared her throat, answering in a shriveled voice, "Y-yes, but I have a class on the ground floor right now…and this one was closer."

"You know Hogwart's bathrooms _that well?_" Evelyn leaned against the stall wall and spoke through it.

"Wouldn't you if you had someone taunting and teasing you every single second of every day?"

_'How dramatic,' _she snorted.

"No," Evelyn matter of factly answered, "If I had someone treating me like that—I'd slap that bitch."

"E-easy for you to say."

"That's true," Myrtle had a point and Evelyn had to give it to her, "Who is this anyway?"

"Ol-Olive Hornby," she blew her nose in an obnoxiously loud manner that made Evelyn wince.

"Figures…look, she's just an evil prat that parades around her daddy's money and uses it to lord over people. So just forget about her. She's nothing."

"I know…you're right, but I just get so mad whenever she makes fun of my glasses or my hair…"

"Who says she's _so _pretty?"

"Everyone," Myrtle answered simply.

"Not everyone. I'm sure there's loads of guys who don't think anything of her—

"Actually you're right," she interrupted, sounding a little smug.

"Of course I am—

"She's been trying to get the attention of Tom Riddle for months and he won't even give her a second glance—

"Wait—_what?_" Evelyn immediately perked up.

"Tom Riddle. You know, Slytherin Prefect, smartest—

"Yes, I know _of _ him," Evelyn was caught between a growl and a moan at the thought of Tom.

"Anyway," Myrtle seemed to be delighted to tell of what little gossip she knew as Evelyn imagined with the poor girl's short list of friends, (including the toilet and the sink) allowed her to rarely engage in it, "from what I hear her saying to her friends, she's completely determined to do something about that Westwood girl in her house—

"You mean Evelyn?" speaking in third person felt strange as it was necessary to gain as much information as possible. It was even more curious that the girl would tell gossip to someone on the other side of a bathroom stall whom she couldn't even see.

"Yes, I think that's her name. I didn't know her first name, I've only seen her a few times in the hallways—she's rather snobby looking—

_"Snobby?"_ Evelyn choked at the description.

"Y-Yes—you don't think so?" Myrtle asked in a fearful voice, afraid that she was speaking to one of Evelyn's friends.

"I mean—sure, I'm sure she looks that way, but she's probably really a nice girl who was just born with the wrong face," she quickly tried to recover.

"Maybe…anyway, I don't know what's going on between Olive and the Westwood girl but I think the link between the two is Riddle. I think she's really jealous of the attention that he gives the other girl. I don't think she's _that _pretty anyway—

"You mean Olive?" Evelyn's voice hitched hopefully.

"No, the other girl."

She huffed and quietly consoled herself by picturing how unattractive_ Myrtle was_ by comparison, "Well anyway, it was nice talking to you," she decided to end the conversation before Myrtle could insult her any further.

"Oh, no, the pleasure's mine!" she piped up happily.

_"I'm sure," _she grumbled under her breath.

"Wait!" Myrtle couldn't hide the desperate tone in her voice, "You didn't tell me your name!" she cried from the next door bathroom stall.

"It's Edith…Edith Snellgrove."

* * *

A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Though I'm sure I'm going to get a few complaints about the small role Tom had in this chapter, I swear he'll be back to all of his evil glory in the next chapter. Please review. 


	11. Hogwarts, A History

"Students should be directed to their corresponding Houses immediately!" The Sonorus spell helped magnify the frail voice of Armando Dippet over bustling students in the corridors, "Prefects should be on hand to direct students to their proper common rooms…and please do so in a calm and organized manner!" As if the last appendage would be abided by despite the urgent command. The uproar of the curious students made it increasingly difficult for Evelyn to find anyone in her own house, as she seemed to be surrounded by a plethora of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students. Pushing frighten-eyed first and second years aside, she tried to glimpse a thread of green, or a conceited demeanor—anything that might alert her of someone from her own house.

"This way, Westwood," the dark but commanding voice belonged to none other than Tom Riddle, who grabbed her by the arm and plucked her out of the exasperated crowd.

"Let go of me," Evelyn hissed making quite as scene as she tried to wrench herself free, attracting a few curious glances but they were quickly forgotten as the current situation at hand dominated everyone else's senses.

"I'll let go of you when I want to," he leaned in closely and whispered in her ear. She craned her neck, and cupping her hand against his face, whispered back, "Then reverse that horrible spell!" He felt cemented to the spot as he thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of her hot breath blowing into his ear but received a very unexpected surprise when it was replaced with the soft texture of her tongue, lightly tracing the shell of his ear, eliciting shocks of electricity-like feelings through his body, "See…I don't even have to use magic…" she finished in a low voice, her pink lips curved in a slight grin.

Tom quickly recovered, "I was only doing you a _favor_…the last time I witnessed it, you seemed to very much _enjoy _my ministrations."

Her face crumbled under a blush as she tried desperately to suppress it, her mask changing to one of anger, "Well…you're wrong!" was all she could manage as the current look of amusement reflecting in his eyes that seemed to impede any wit left within her.

"Oh…so your writhing demonstration in Potions was one of pain?" He raised an eyebrow and a musical laugh escaped his succulent lips and the subtle gleaming of his pallid teeth peeked out from under them. He seemed to be in an uncommonly good mood despite the current chaos reigning over all of Hogwarts.

"You damn well know it wasn't," she titled her head downward and murmured in a deadly serious tone, "and if you had any decency left in you, you would take it off of me."

"There are many things that I would like to take off of you, the spell not being one of them, and as for decency, it's never been my strong suit I'm afraid," he answered so casually that it made her stomach churn.

"It better become one of your strong suits or—

"Or just what my dear?" he asked, his face now merely centimeters from hers, staring out from daring eyes that were half hidden by the sable locks of hair that fell elegantly into them.

"Or…" Evelyn suddenly felt like a small child and began to shrink away.

Tom laughed again at her childish manner and her eyebrows dropped in annoyance of his treatment of her, "I thought as much…maybe if you play your cards right…" he looked pensive as if planning something, "Meet me in front of the swiveling staircase at twelve sharp and I'll see what can be done." She gasped at the familiar feeling of something long and hard sliding between her thighs, the spell seemed to be flaring up again as she was in close proximity of the caster. Tom once again exulted at her embarrassment and with his shoulders slightly shaking from laughter, he turned and strode in the opposite direction. She quietly cursed at his retreating figure, but turned as well, following the rest of her house mates to the dungeons.

Tom's laughter quickly faded as he now focused on the task at hand—following the valiant band of Professors who took it upon themselves to search for the Ravenclaw girl who had "gone missing" since yesterday. He knew _exactly _where she was, the only question is, is how long would it take _them_ to find her? He desperately wished to move her away from the entrance of the Chamber but couldn't risk touching her in fear of someone finding evidence of him being there. How could he have been so careless as not to check all of the stalls before opening it? If he had ignored his eagerness to see it again, he could've forgone this whole pointless episode.

Her death was really a mistake. He didn't feel remorse for her getting in the way, but more so of what this meant in the grand scheme of things. This incident would surely close the school if no culprit was found and that would mean his chances of staying here over the summer were absolutely out of the question. He would now have to find a way out of the hole he had found himself in, quick enough for them to still consider it and before anyone realizes he had anything to do with the girl's death—as if they could. No one would be clever enough to connect him to the murder since he had not killed her with his own wand.

He thought of all of this as he climbed through one of the secret passage ways leading up to the second floor. He discovered many of these passages during his search for the Chamber and they proved quite useful in maneuvering around the castle when he needed to be unseen. Quietly stepping out from behind a tapestry, he slid into an alcove behind one of the many suits of armor and continued his careful observations of the troupe of Professors who were now gathered around the girl's bathroom door. They were so close now.

Tom clearly remembered the screech of horror from the girl as she died. He imagined the last thing she saw were the red flashing eyes of the beast before it killed her. He remembered standing over her body and staring down upon her lifeless limbs, her glasses askew and her hair splayed carelessly across the stone floor and he curiously wondered about what became of her soul…

Tom was shaken from his reverie by the sound of them pushing against the door, which must have been jarred shut. They held their wands at the ready and he almost chuckled as he imagined that they must think the killer would just pop out from behind the door. Some of the younger professors threw their weight against the entry and it was only a matter of time until it gave. They all dispersed into the bathroom, looking about wildly for anyone or anything as they descended further inside.

'3…2…1'—

"She's in here!"

* * *

The students filed into the Great Hall of Hogwarts to be greeted not by the banners of the preceding year's House Cup winners, but by long black ones that reached to the floor and dominated the room, blocking out most of the candles' light, which made the hall appear darker. Headmaster Dippet somberly informed them of Myrtle's mysterious death and not a sound could be heard as he announced his next plea, "We urge you, if you have any knowledge, or witnessed anything concerning the unfortunate events of yesterday, please speak to either myself or any of your professors. It is absolutely essential to the future of the school that we find the culprit and any clues of any sort could prove substantial in understanding how this tragedy could have happened. That is all I wish to say," he sat down, joining the quiet Professors' table who sat in front of the even quieter student body.

After dinner Evelyn quickly caught up with Margaret, eagerly awaiting to hear what she knew, "Did you know her?" she asked, hurrying along the corridor, but slowing down so that they didn't reach the stair cases too soon, where Evelyn would take the descending one and Margaret the ascending.

"Did you know her?" Evelyn asked.

"Not very well—I mean, she _was_ in my house, but I never really spoke to her. She was a very morbid girl—tragic really. Did you?"

"A little…" Evelyn answered in a troubled voice as she had felt sorry that she never even told the girl her _real _name.

"Have you…?" Evelyn felt as if her question had a false start, she was about to blurt something out and hadn't even thought of how to approach it, but decided to plow on anyway, "Have you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets?"

Margaret completely stopped in the middle of the hallway, other students pushing past her, and stared at her long-time friend, "Why is a_Slytherin_ asking a _Ravenclaw_ about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Some students at our house table were whispering about it during dinner," she answered in a small voice, feeling thoroughly dense, courtesy of her best friend, "Besides, you know this Slytherin never pays attention in History of Magic and she knows a Ravenclaw that did."

"You mean your parents didn't read to you _The History of Slytherin and The Chamber of Secrets _when you were little?" Margaret jokingly referenced Evelyn's dark heritage.

"No, they favored _Dark Witches and Wizards of the Ages _as a wholesome bedtime story."

"Then I'm still surprised that you haven't heard about Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets," she slanted an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Salazar wasn't a dark wizard, he was just misunderstood," Evelyn replied.

Margaret irritably ignored her joke, "Anyway, I don't remember _everything,_but I do know the basics of it. Something about when Salazar created the House of Slytherin, he built a secret chamber within Hogwarts, hence the name 'Chamber of Secrets', where he kept this beast, though no one knows for sure what it looks like or exactly what kind of beast it is."

"Do you…do you think maybe that's what attacked you?"

Margaret's laugh was high and shrill as she usually didn't get the chance to laugh at Evelyn much, or at least tried to stifle it when she did.

"_Evelyn, really…_I mean, no one knows for sure, but it's sort of understood that the Chamber of Secrets is just a legend, mainly because of the fact that there is no real evidence that supports it's existence because no one has ever seen it. Slytherins just like to taunt uneducated half-bloods and muggleborns, saying that they're going to sic the beast of Slytherin on them, even though they know good and well that it doesn't exist."

"Wait—how do _you_ know that?" Evelyn wrinkled her face at the thought of it,

"Because when I was a second year, an older Slytherin student threatened me with it after I refused to carry her books for her. So I went and researched it to prove that they couldn't sic their imaginary beast on me."

"But why only muggleborns and half-bloods?"

"_Evelyn! _I can't believe you! You really are a sorry excuse for a Slytherin, even by my standards. I assumed every Slytherin knew about Salazar's hatred for witches and wizards that aren't pure blood. Look around your own house, how many aren't pureblood?"

"Well, there are a few, but not many," she admitted.

"Exactly," she answered, using her best know-it-all voice, "There are considerably less there than in any other house because Salazar created the house of Slytherin with the intent not to admit anyone that isn't pureblood, of course it is _infiltrated,_" she spoke sarcastically, "with a few non purebloods…I'm sure there's more to it though—about the Chamber of Secrets, but that's all that I can really remember. If you were really interested, you would do your own research in the library."

"Or _you_ could do it…" she hinted, hoping that her studious friend would take her up on it.

"_No…you _can do it Evelyn, besides, it'd do you some good to become versed in the sordid history of your own house."

"Oh lay off Slytherin. Ok, it may not be all good and righteous like your beloved Ravenclaw, but there are some good witches and wizards that came out of my house!"

"Name one," Margaret responded automatically.

"That's not the point…the point is…Slytherin isn't all bad! I mean…look at me…anyway, I gotta go," Evelyn glanced around, as if looking for something.

"Where?"

"_The library," _she answered as if it should be perfectly obvious and began dashing off in the wrong direction.

"She doesn't even know where it is!" Margaret grumbled to herself at the very outrage that there could be _any _sixth year at Hogwarts who didn't know where the library was located, "The other way Evelyn!"

"…Right!" She turned back and rushed in the other direction.

"Oh—and _Hogwarts, A History _might be a good place to start…" Margaret shouted one last piece of advice at her disappearing figure.

The candelabras had already lit up by the time Evelyn reached the library and quietly snuck inside before the librarian could scold her for not showing up in a group, as was the new rule around Hogwarts since the mysterious happenings. The library was relatively empty and terribly quiet that late in the afternoon. She immediately headed to the back, knowing that the further back she went, the books' dates corresponded.

'Hogwarts…Hogwarts—History of Magic—,' she thought to herself and traced her finger across the cryptic bindings, 'here we go…Hogwarts, A History,' she pulled out the book and it's weight almost fell out of her hands. Dragging it to a table, she let it slap the table top and opened it to the back.

"No index?" she thought allowed, "What kind of book is this?" she whined at the thought of having to leaf through the thin pages of this volume. She flipped to the contents pages, searching for something that might lead her in the right direction, "Atlas of Hogwarts…Houses of Hogwarts…Ah—this might be it: Founders of Hogwarts—page 450," she quickly flipped through the pages until she arrived at the particularly thumbed marked page entitled _The Founders of Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. _She quickly scanned the following pages for any mention of Slytherin. She spent the next hour and a half pouring over the dusty texts and covering her mouth to yawn every so often, searching for any information concerning the chamber until she found an article that caught her attention:

_There arose an argument between the founders of the houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor. Godric Gyffindor, a great benefactor of non-purebloods, believed that Hogwarts should be accessible to all witches and wizards that wish to learn the art of witchcraft, whereas Salazar Slytherin had planned for the institution to be more selective in which students were granted admittance. When an agreement could not be reached, Salazar built a hidden chamber within the walls of Hogwarts for which he intended his heir to open upon returning to Hogwarts. He stored a great beast in the chamber which would be unleashed by the heir to wreak havoc upon the non-pureblood students of Hogwarts. This chamber has yet to be found and there is much speculation about the verity of it's existence. Upon the completion of one such chamber, Salazar Slytherin fled the school forthwith, never to be seen upon the school grounds again…_

"That's it?" she blurted and then frantically scanned the page for more information, knowing that there must have been something she had missed. Evelyn rubbed her temples and continued looking for more vital clues. She laid her head on the book, hoping that by osmosis the information she needed would seep into her brain. Her eyelids slowly closed over and she fell into a deep sleep.

Evelyn was running through the hallway, grasping the hand of someone whom she could not see for the darkness surrounding them. She didn't think to ask their name, she just mindlessly followed, the full moon's light roamed across her body as it poured through the high windows. She quickly recognized the second floor by the rows of armored suits lining the walls and they came to a stop in front of the girl's bathroom. Evelyn ran into the person she was following from the abrupt stop, "Tom?" She thought she recognized the profile of his face projecting in the moon light. He did not answer, but instead pushed the door open to the now avoided bathroom. Tom immediately went to the sink but she did not pay attention as hers was turned to the task of scratching the offending feeling of something on her face.

Evelyn jumped awake and out of the corner of her eye she saw something move across her face, _"AAAHHHHH!"_ She screeched in horror and leaped backwards out of her chair, knocking it over and falling against the book case behind her. A neat line of spiders scrambled over the desk, over the plane of _Hogwarts, A History _and down the table leg, until they disappeared somewhere in the darker part of the library.

"What is going on…?" she looked on in horror at all of the spiders crawling around her feet. Grabbing her robes from the back of her chair, she shook them in fear of any spiders hiding out in them and quickly slipped out of the library before any more of them could crawl on her.

Upon leaving the library she realized that it must have gotten extremely late, as the full moon was already very high in the sky. "Oh! Riddle—I forgot!" Evelyn quickly made her way to the end of the fourth floor and traipsed down two floors to the end of the swiveling stair case on the second. She made sure to have her hand in her pocket, grasping her wand in case this was all a trap of some sort.

Tom's head tilted upwards at the sound of her light foot falls coming down the stairs. Evelyn was over taken by an odd inclination to run to him and throw herself into his arms by the way he was staring at her and then she remembered the specific reason she was there.

"I was beginning to think you must've _really _enjoyed my little spell."

* * *

A/N: Okay, so I'm really sorry for this delay. I had the earliest scheduled exams, but I had to work right after I finished this semester. Anyway, I had this chapter planned to be a lot longer, but I'm gonna have to break it up, so, I'm really sorry if it doesn't seem like much happens... Anyway, please review and I'll try to work on the next one as soon as possible! Thanks. 


	12. The Heir of Slytherin

"Please…" Evelyn rolled her dark eyes as she reached the bottom of the staircase, "Don't flatter yourself…isn't everyone else's enough to satisfy your ego?"

Tom seemed to have turned a deaf ear to any clever remark she made and instead grasped her hand from the railing and pulled her so close into him that she felt the rippling abs under his oxford shirt. She trembled from this feeling, but quickly recovered her dignity.

"I'm not your little house elf to do with as you please," she huffed at his forceful treatment, _"not that you ever had any…"_ Even in the dim moonlight she saw a flash of anger shoot across his features and for a moment the smug grin that he wore so proudly fell into a sneer and she smirked triumphantly, knowing she had struck a chord, "Aw…did that hurt you? Is that all I have to do to kick you off your high horse?—Make a few comments about your poor…_helpless_…orphan—

"Now listen here you silly, stupid girl," he gnarled and she gasped; his grip on her wrist tightened to a frightening extent, "You know _nothing—_absolutely _nothing _about my past or my heritage, and if you did, you would be so speechless that you would never open those pretty little lips again," he said, smashing a finger into her trembling aperture. Every time she felt herself becoming intimated by the forceful, powerful figure that was Tom Riddle, she remembered, that he was just a boy, and she would not be conquered by this boy, "Ha…there's nothing you could say that would surprise me…why, you're the love child of Morgan Le Fay, sent to the future by a time turner, aren't you?"

Tom didn't seem to find the joke so very funny. He said nothing as he reeled around, his robes billowed behind him as he dragged her down the hallway. He would show her, once and for all, just exactly _what _his heritage was, and she would never speak another word against his bloodline again.

"I thought you were going to reverse—are we going to the girl's bathroom?" she hit a sudden realization as things began to seem eerily familiar.

He looked over his shoulder at her with a raised eyebrow, but turned back around, bent on the very destination, as they were now heading down the same armor suited corridor. Whispering a spell, the door flew open, which did in fact, reveal the girl's bathroom, the same one that Myrtle had died in.

"What did you bring me here for?" she stared at his cloaked back as he led her inside.

Tom showed no interest in her questions as he stood in front of one of the taps, imitating snake hisses.

"What in the he—

Evelyn's voice seemed to drop in her throat as she watched the top of the water taps rise up and the base lower into the floor. He turned to her, displaying the same self-satisfied grin as earlier, "Ladies first, unless of course you're too scared."

"No," she answered quickly and firmly, standing at the edge of the large hole that was now gaping in the middle of the bathroom floor. Evelyn meekly peered into the darkness below, "what do I do?"

"Just go," he answered as if annoyed by her trepidation, and lightly pushed her over the edge.

She screeched at the feeling of her feet falling out from under her as her legs roughly hit a metal slide and she descended further into the dark funnel-like path. A small ray of light peeked out at her as it quickly approached her, growing in size. She flung her hands out, ready to shield herself from whatever was at the end of the light. With a thud, she landed roughly on her arse, but quickly stood up, brushing the dirt and dust from her uniform. Unlike Evelyn's violent departure, Tom magicked himself to slow down and instead of falling off the slide, he came to a full stop and stood up, exiting with the same elegance and composure that he reserved for every other aspect of his life. She was acutely annoyed by his display of absolute control but it quickly dissipated at the site of the piles of small animal bones that littered the room, which was mostly hidden in shadow, save the small, flickering lights, emitting from two torches in front of them.

"Down there?" she pointed to a ladder that was sticking out of another, much smaller pipe, sitting between the two torches. He only nodded and Evelyn made her way down the pipe, into a much larger room, lined with marble statues, sculpted into snakes. The snake-lined walkway led to an enormous effigy of the founder of their own house—Salazar Slytherin.

'…a _hidden chamber within the walls of Hogwarts…'_ the very line from _Hogwarts, A History _echoed into her thoughts.

"Is this…?" Evelyn stared blankly at the visage of Tom Riddle. His alabaster skin shown in the ethereal light that filled the chamber, his slivery eyes glowed, seemingly penetrating her.

"The Chamber of Secrets," his strong voice rang out crisp and clear through the vast room, reverberating off the statues, making the room seem to grow by the minute.

A ghostly shade crawled up her neck as her entire face grew pale, "So you're…?"

The horrified look in her brown eyes brought on a terrible realization.

He had made a mistake.

A horrible, irrevocable mistake. He should've never brought her down here. She had every reason to snitch. It didn't matter if he threatened her to stay quiet, if any professor got as much as an inkling that she might know something of importance they would easily read her mind. His heart pounded with anxiety as he realized the damage that had already been done by bringing her this far. How could he be so stupid as to allow his own pride to be his own downfall? How could he? After all the meticulous planning and surveying, how could this be the end of it all? An extremely stupid, taunting little prat managed to make him slip up! He stared at her for what seemed like years, trying to hide the fear of his blunder in his own eyes.

"Of course not." Deny—that was all he had to do. He growled out the answer irritably, as he much would've liked to tell her the truth—that he really _was _the famed heir of Slytherin—the very driving force behind the monster that terrified all of Hogwarts, but the truth (as much as he would've—for once—liked to have succumb to it) would only lead to more trouble.

"Then how did you find—

A plan to cover it all was quickly forming in his mind, "Anyone can find it if you know where to look."

"But you opened it—and only th-the heir of Slytherin is supposed to be able to open it," she grew more fearful by the moment, backing away from him.

"_Supposed _to, but the reality is…that anyone who knows Parseltongue can open it. You see…Salazar Slytherin was a well known Parseltongue—

"I know what a Parseltongue is," she answered indignantly.

"Anyway," he pressed on; irritated at the unnecessary interruption, "to possess such a gift is extremely rare in wizards. I found out very early that I had this gift. Once I realized exactly what it was and who it was connected to, I had a strong guess that _I _might be a descendant of his…but I was wrong. I investigated my wizarding blood line through my father's side," (a theory he had in fact once hoped was true), "to find that it only goes back a few hundred years. I do not know how or why I was born a Parseltongue, but I suppose it's just by chance really. The reason…why I brought you here is to show you this. This _is _the Chamber of Secrets, but I do not know who the heir is. The house elves comment _did _strike a chord. Your parents are wealthy purebloods, am I correct?"

"Well…" the color of her face was now returning in a shade of bright red, "ex-parents really," she mumbled.

"Regardless," he decided that now was not the time to take advantage of her well-known misfortune, "I assume you and your parents knew many other pureblood families who came from Slytherin, one of which probably carries the heir."

"Y-yes, but there's so many different pureblood students in Hogwarts, how do we even know that they had to be sorted in Slytherin? They could be in other houses…_and_ it could be either a boy _or _a girl," Evelyn's brain seemed overwhelmed with all of the new information that it was trying to take in.

"No it couldn't," Tom quickly corrected her, knowing full well that it wasn't.

"How do you know that?" she asked haughtily.

"Because it would've said _heiress_."

"If I'm so dumb, why do you want me to help you anyway? Couldn't your goons Malfoy, Lestrange and the rest of them brainstorm for you?" she grew angry, beginning to walk away towards the ladder that brought them down there.

"Because _you _need the heir to be caught just as badly as I do," Tom answered coolly.

"And what makes you think that?" she fired back, stopping in her tracks.

"Because Dippet's already threatened to close the school if nothing comes up—and you know where that puts us? Oh sure, the rest of the students will go home to their mums and dads, but you and I—well, I don't know where you'll end up, but _I'm _on my way back to the orphanage, and _you _will have to make a decision between the orphanage or the streets." Her brown eyes were brimmed with tears as she kept her back turned. She had tried _not_ to imagine what her future would be like, but Tom's vocalization put everything into a horrifying perspective. By circumstance, the two were now more alike than Evelyn would ever want to acknowledge.

She whirled around in alarm, immediately aware of something, "If this is the chamber, then where is the beast?"

"I don't know," Tom answered, trying to sound sincere as if wondering that himself, "I've only been down here a few times, trying to catch the heir, but I've never seen him or the beast…now just think," he added in a softer voice, pulling her gently to him and placing his arm around her shoulders, "do we know anyone that would have any sort of control over a beast?"

She furrowed her brow, trying to think of anyone that might seem suspicious, "Well," she piped up, "there is one person—that half-giant, Hagrid."

"The Gryffindor?" Tom decided that this set back had been more useful than he could've imagined, "what about him?"

"About a month ago I was in Dippet's office and I overheard him talking to Hagrid about keeping some sort of prohibited animals."

"Really?" his dark eyebrow arched in obvious intrigue.

"I mean, he's not in Slytherin, so I guess by your standards he couldn't be the heir…"

"I didn't say that," he quickly corrected her, feeling that she was on to something, "I said that it had to be a male." The idea was ludicrous—Hagrid, a lowly, trouble-making, half-giant could be the glorious heir of Slytherin. As shameful as that would be to the name of Slytherin, he was a perfect candidate none the less. It was all too easy to blame him. The professors would believe Tom in an instant because they wouldn't want to close their precious Hogwarts and lose their jobs just as badly as he didn't want to go back to the orphanage. Even if a few did have their doubts, they would want to believe that Hagrid was the heir, given his past record. He wanted to almost laugh at how effortlessly this would all work. The only thing that he would have to do is get a hold of one of Hagrid's harmless animals and claim that it was the beast of Slytherin.

Evelyn tensed up as she heard something scrape against the ground, "Tom there's something in here!" she whispered, jumping out of his grasp and withdrawing her wand.

Evelyn turned about to be met by huge, glowing, red eyes.

"Evelyn!"

Tom's voice was the last thing she heard as the stone walls seemed to darken and close over her.

* * *

** A/N: **In honor of everyone's favorite villain's birthday (New Year's Eve), I've finished another chapter. Hooray! Happy Birthday Voldy:) Please review, and Happy New Year! 


	13. Murderer

Tom gazed fearfully at the lidded eyes of Evelyn Westwood. This wasn't supposed to have happened. The beast shouldn't have attacked a pureblood.

He reached for wrist to feel a pulse. It felt odd to be touching her hand instead of jerking it around. Her skin was almost…soft. He allowed his fingers to hungrily crawl up her arm, caressing her feathery skin. He slowly reached for her lips, enjoying the feeling of their gentle texture on his fingertips.

"Tom..?"

He immediately withdrew his wondering hand, as if burned.

Evelyn's eyes flittered open, squinting from the bright lights that assailed them. She barely recognized the green velvet, canopied bed. Her eyes traveled across the bed, reaching a night stand that held a range of vials with different colored liquids bubbling in each one. Her voice croaked, sounding weak and faded.

He almost looked relieved. Evelyn wondered if his giving away of that emotion had been a mistake as he quickly recovered his mask of indifference.

"Here," he harshly handed her a flask, shoving it into her hands, "finish this."

As a sign of her trust, she gulped it down without a second thought.

"Why didn't you take me to the infirmary?"

"Because there was no time," he answered coolly as he turned a page of his weathered reading material, "it was much quicker to bring you here, and besides…the infirmary is over flooded with students this time of the year."

All of this was a lie of course—Tom couldn't care less _who_ looked after her. He simply could not take her to the infirmary because he did not need anything linked to himself at the moment, not to mention that bringing in another student would only expedite the closing of Hogwarts. The framing of Rubeus would have to happen soon, for if the school closed too quickly, he wouldn't even have had a chance to expose him. Her blood status brought in an even worse and frightening factor. The Basilisk's attack of Evelyn uncovered the horrible truth that he wished he could deny.

It was getting out of control.

If the Basilisk was getting so desperate that it would attack purebloods, then it could no longer be used. He could not tolerate that sort of discrepancy within his plans. As soon as he could get away from her, he would go and search out any harmless animal of Hagrid's that he could find and present it as the beast of Slytherin.

"Tom?"

He immediately snapped out of his pensive reverie and closed his finger in the spine of his book.

"Yes?" he yawned and glanced out of the stain glass windows.

"What…what _was_ that?" she sat up, her eyes growing wide and she looked like a small child with her unruly hair that formed a tangled shape from lying in his bed.

"I don't know," he answered matter of factly, "I didn't get a good look at it. As soon as it attacked you, I just tried to get you out of there as fast as possible. I suppose it was the beast that we're looking for though."

Her face softened, as if she genuinely appreciated the thought of him rushing her to safety and for a moment, she had completely forgotten of the times he had ruthlessly humiliated her.

"So…what is it like…in an orphanage?" her voice was small and meek.

His mind took a moment to even process the question, not wholly sure if she even asked it. Anger immediately flared within the charmer and he almost lashed out at her for even enquiring about the wretched place, but instead regained his composure and retracted his stare from the outlying grounds, "Why? Plan on going there?" He arched an eyebrow, wanting to laugh as he tried to imagine just how the likes of Evelyn Westwood would survive in an orphanage.

"Ugh—No!" she gasped agitatedly and pulled the covers tightly around her, "I was just wondering…"

"And wonder you shall, because it's something I do not wish to discuss," he added firmly and swirled around whatever contents lied within his cup before draining it.

The sun illuminated her brown eyes, making them almost a gold tint and filled with sympathy. The light seemed to create an angelic figure of her, though he knew better.

"Don't you _dare_ pity me."

"But—" she reached for his hand that rested on the bed side, but he quickly avoided hers. Annoyed at his confusing behavior, she crossed her arms and spat venomously, "well…you don't seem to have much of a problem allowing professors to do so."

"Because I can't tell them otherwise—but I _can _tell you," he eyed her staunchly.

"Well excuse me for caring!" she 'hmphed' angrily and evaded his gaze, "I need to be going anyway!" Evelyn peeled the duvet off of her and stepped on to the floor, reaching for her outer robes as well as another necessity.

"Have you seen my—

"This?" he held her wand eye-level, twisting it skillfully between his fingers and there was something of a malicious in the tint of his eyes.

"Yes, please give it to me," she reached out her hand, palm open, but his made no movement towards hers. Evelyn finally reached for it, but he jerked it back as someone might taunt a child who wants a toy.

"Ah uh…I require something of you," his brow furrowed intelligently and the words rolled off of his tongue like a dark melody.

"What?" though she was growing fearsome of what this might entail.

"I need your witness should any questions arise concerning the identity of the heir of Slytherin."

"I don't think anyone should have any trouble believing you," she added skeptically.

"You don't _know _that," he replied contemptuously.

"Honestly Riddle…do you _really _think that someone is going to believe Rubeus Hagrid over _you?_"

"I was just reassuring your remembrance of him, should anyone ask."

"_They won't…_now give me my wand." He grudgingly handed it to her and she quickly gathered up her things, though the air was awkward as she reached for the door.

"And by the way—I've heard some rather _fallacious _things going around about you."

Evelyn stopped dead in her tracks, unsure of the meaning of this cryptic warning, but not wanting to linger another moment, she hastily closed the door behind her.

The nerve of him! How irritating it is when someone won't receive your sympathy, Evelyn thought angrily as she rounded the corner, intent on going to class. She immediately noticed the curious looks that people unrelentingly threw at her.

"What?" she mouthed, but couldn't find her voice amid all the others who whispered about her as she passed. Evelyn was quite amazed to see someone actually approaching her, as apposed to backing up as everyone seemed to do. She recognized a particularly upturn-nosed girl by the name of Charlotte Evans, looking like a sacrificial lamb, stumbling up to her, "Head-Headmaster Dippet wanted me to tell you to report to his office," she looked rather weary this morning, probably for the same reason that everyone else looked at her so.

Evelyn looked at the girl with the same critical stare she reserved for people who act like little first years "Fine," she shrugged and the girl quickly shuffled away into the safe harbor of her herd of fellow Hufflepuffs. Evelyn was almost glad to be going there for once, she needed someone to tell her what was going on, even if it had to be the Headmaster himself, as she was sure this urgent call pertained to whatever made everyone regard her so strangely.

The march to Dippet's office was a long one, whispers floated around her head, groups parted to avoid her, and glares penetrated her skull. She once again took the swiveling stairs that was shaped like an eagle, and stood in front of Dippet's decorative door once again. She slammed the door knocker, causing an urgent, "Come in!" to be issued out to her.

"Please sit down," Dippet appeared nervous as well, though she couldn't understand how something could grip a sensible professor as easily has it did students.

"It has come to my attention that on Friday, the twelfth of February you were in the girl's bathroom at around two in the afternoon," the old man looked up and waited for her to confirm this.

"Uhm…yeah…sometimes I have to go there…" this was shaping up to be the strangest conversation she had ever had with the man, "and the importance of this is…?"

"The importance of this is that you were in the same bathroom around the same time that Myrtle Jenkins was murdered!" he spoke the accusation as if it had already been determined as fact.

"I didn't kill her," she responded quite calmly despite the fact that the Headmaster of Hogwarts was almost shouting at her, "in fact I—

She stopped immediately, about to utter the name of the killer, but decided that she better not get involved as this whole thing was Riddle's plan, not hers, and since everyone already thought that she had something to do with it, she wanted no connection to it.

"You what?" he leaned closer, as if trying to pry into her brain for the next word.

"I—I did see her though. I spoke to her, but I didn't see her die, nor was I in the bathroom at the time of her death."

"I looked at your class tables and at this time you should've been in Potions, why were you not there?" he asked with a sense of smugness, as if he had cornered her.

"Because I had to go to the bathroom—and it was an emergency!"

"What kind of an emergency?"

The question was absolutely ridiculous, "The bladder kind," she answered bluntly, though that hadn't been the truth at all—the day he was referring to was her escape from Riddle's secret torture and she was quickly reminded of why she hated him.

"So…you could swear that you know nothing of the murder of Myrtle Jenkins and had no involvement whatsoever?" he pushed his greasy glasses up the bridge of his crooked nose.

"YES," she answered a little more forcefully than she had meant to. He looked pensive, as if he no longer knew exactly what to do with her. Apparently the interrogation had not gone as planned, as he seemed to be looking for a scapegoat in Evelyn.

"You may go for now, but I must warn you that you may be called for more questioning if anything new arises," apparently he felt as if he had yet to get a good rise out of her, so he made sure to add one last warning, "and you best listen to me young lady, your stance at this school is quickly crumbling. If you're found to have any connection whatsoever to the murder of Myrtle Jenkins, you'll be immediately withdrawn from Hogwarts."

"Whatever…" she mumbled, having quite enough of him at the moment.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said…, 'Of course!'" and she left without being excused.

Armando Dippet was incredibly annoying.

As brave has Evelyn had been in front of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, tears threatened to form behind her eyes as she left his office. She could only hope that Tom acted soon—she was beginning to look more and more guilty—

"Oh!" Evelyn quickly lost her balance as her face collided with someone's shoulder, knocking her backwards. The tears reduced the boy's face to beige and black blobs. Arms clasped around her back to keep her from falling to the floor and her embarrassment grew worse as she adverted from meeting his eyes, "I'm sorry…"

"Here," a crisp handkerchief was thrust into her face and she gladly took it, "Dry your eyes, you're putting a bad face on the House of Slytherin."

She immediately recognized the cynical tone, "You!" she shrieked, "You're the one that got me into this mess!"

"Me?" he answered defensively, "How could I have possibly convinced the school that you killed Myrtle Jenkins?"

"No Tom, I was in the bathroom around the time that Myrtle was killed because of you! If you hadn't…kept…kept…"

"Kept what?" he amusedly pried it out of her.

"Kept _bothering _me, I wouldn't have run away! And now…and now everyone thinks I did it! They think I'm a killer!" she cried hysterically, tears grazing her eyes as her face reddened from exertion. She threw herself against him, crumbling the front of his oxford shirt in her small fists, "You have to help me! They'll kick me out of the school and send me to Azkaban!"

"Please stop your babbling," he answered coldly but pulled her a little closer.

"P-Please," she choked on the words, "you have to hurry! You have to tell Dippet that I didn't do it! Tell him Hagrid did it!—Tell him anyone did! I don't care!"

"Everything's going to be fine. As soon as I locate Hagrid's beast, he'll be exposed and all of this will be over," he said so nonchalantly that it was disarming.

"How can you…be sure?" she looked so pathetic when she gazed up at him with her red-rimmed eyes, all of her weaknesses barren to him.

"Because the whole school wants him caught just as badly as you do, and when I do, everything will return to normal."

She almost found comfort in his confidence. Evelyn badly wanted to succumb to whatever power that drew her into to the security of being under his wing. Tom Riddle had so much power and influence in the school, she was beginning to realize that no one could touch her if she stuck close to him.

"In the meantime, the best thing for you to do is to keep quiet and out of sight."


	14. Hero

"I'm sorry, it's just that…"

He tried to hide the disgust in his voice, "You're_ scared_…I know."

He did know—not _now, _but he had known. It was the same fear he first experienced so many years ago. The first and last time he had decided he would succumb to such a feeling at five years old. For a moment, he thought he smelt the potent odor of turpentine, the solvent used to scrub down the orphanage after a lice break out. There weren't many toys to play with since they had to be sanitized, so he sat on the floor, rolling a wooden marble.

"_Do'ya even know _why_ you're here Riddle?" asked the snout-nosed bully who's name was so inconsequential to him now that it escaped his memory. His younger self realized early that it was best to initially ignore anyone who heckled you, unless of course, they _refused _to leave you alone. Tom looked up at the snout, but quickly avoided his gaze and instead resumed nimbly rolling the marble around under his hand._

"'_Cause nobody wants you and nobody will ever want you. I've seen you…you freak! I've seen you do things!" he pointed his finger, intending to stir Tom._

_It was true. Tom had done things that he had not known how or why at the time._

"_That's not true! My dad wants me—and he's coming for me—as soon as he can find me!"_

"_Don't get your hopes up little baby. No one's coming for you. Your dad would've come for you already if he wanted you," he sneered. That fear had taken root in him long ago, and now it was being spelled out in the form of a terribly rotund little boy._

_Tom's naive mind had always pictured an older man, much like himself, tirelessly looking for his little boy—traveling from one orphanage to another, each time, turning away with his now haggard face hung in despair. It would only be a matter of time before he came for Tom. Of course he realized, after many more Christmases, Birthdays and New Years had come and gone, that his father was not coming for him. Every night Tom prayed that his father would take him away from that place, but somehow, the prayer wore out his lips and they no longer uttered it. Instead, he doled out his time, planning the day when he would track _him _down and Tom would have his revenge on his father and take back all those years that had been stolen from him, living from one Hogwarts term to the next. That time would have to wait though—for it was the next phase of his plans. _

"Riddle?" her meek voice broke his thoughts.

"Don't worry about it," he removed his arms from around her frame and stepped back, "I have some business to take care of," and without another word, he exited her company with nary a trace of comfort left behind. This certainly was a new little twist in the course of events. Tom had never expected the unfortunate coincidence of her being in the same bathroom as Myrtle to ultimately tie her to the murder. And now, here she was, unexpectedly thrown into his sphere of interest.

It was nightfall when Tom was summoned to the Headmaster's office once again by Dippet, who only reminded him that the chances of him being able to stay at Hogwarts for the summer were slipping further and further away as each day passed and the Heir had not been caught.

_Tonight was it._

He would go to the dungeons, get the spider Hagrid had been keeping, and turn him in. Everything would be solved and his plans would be diverted back onto the right path. Tom rounded another corner, swiftly descending the stone staircase into an underground corridor lined with torches. He slowly crept up to the door and then forcefully kicked it open.

The half-giant gazed at him fearfully, frightened by the abrupt noise and immediately dashed to stand in front of a rotting chest.

"Evening Rubeus," despite his rancorous entrance, he maintained a certain level of propriety.

"Tom please! Don' touch Aragog! He wudn't hurt nobody!" he screamed pathetically as the chained box rattled as its contents tried to escape.

"No Hagrid, he _did_ hurt someone. The girl's family is coming tomorrow. The least we can do is rid the school of the monster that killed her."

"Aragog didn't kill 'er! He didn't…" the oaf cried big, sloppy tears that splashed on the stone floor.

"Step aside," Tom whipped out his wand, as if ready to duel with the spider as the lid swung open and the tangle of legs crawled out. Tom raised his wand to cast but the spell never came as Hagrid jumped on top of him, reaching for Tom's wand while the spider ran past.

"NOOO!" Hagrid screamed as Tom's long arm held his wand just out of the half-giant's grasp. He felt his ribs being crushed by the half giant's massive frame and all the air rushed out of his lungs. His head was spinning as Rubeus still swatted at his wand and Tom fired whatever spell first came to his lips, _"Incarcerous!"_

He was able to breathe again when Hagrid's body fell to the floor, rolling over and laying stock still as invisible ropes tied themselves tightly around him, flexing as he struggled. Tom breathed in deeply, standing up, sweeping his hair back into place and straightening his school uniform. He could hear Hagrid still whimpering pathetically and it greatly annoyed him as he whipped around and saw tears well up in the oaf's eyes, his bushy hair collecting around him, making him look like an injured animal.

"_Silencio!"_ Tom added, and the choked sniveling ceased, "I can't expect you to turn yourself in," he spoke now to his captive who still laid on the stone floor, faintly visible by the dying torch light, "So you're going to come with me to Dippet…and you're going to tell him everything." Riddle towered over his captive, hardly able to mask the smile from his face.

"_Levicorpus!" _Tom raised his wand at Hagrid once more and his giant body was raised in the air and hung there like he was floating on a current of wind.

By this time, Tom and Hagrid met no one as Tom traversed up to Dippet's office with Hagrid floating closely behind him. Tom pulled back the door-knocker, rapping it three times until the door opened on it's own accord.

"Mr. Riddle! What is the meaning of this?" Headmaster Dippet slowly rose from behind his desk, his wrinkled brow furrowed in disbelief at the sight of Tom standing in the doorway with a silenced and bound Rubeus Hagrid looming behind him.

"Headmaster Dippet, _this_ is the student behind the attacks," the words were alarming as they bounced around the vaulted ceilings of the Headmaster's office. There was a very long silence as Dippet fixed his spectacles on the perch of his nose as if he didn't trust his own, tired, eyes.

"Hagrid?" Dippet's voice sounded strangled and disappointed, as if it might've been acceptable had it been someone else, which greatly irritated Tom. The hurt look finally left his eyes and his head bowed as he beckoned them forward, a great shadow covering his creased visage, "Sit down, the both of you."

* * *

"It is with great pleasure and great disdain that I announce that the culprit responsible for the murder of Myrtle Jenkins has been apprehended," Dippet declared to a packed Great Hall that still bore the memorial tapestries. He looked around to the students' faces, some displayed curiosity, others anger. Whispers immediately irrupted like a wildfire in a wheat field, spreading around until the sound could not be spoken over as Dippet unsuccessfully tried to do.

The Gryffindor table's inhabitants began to look about uneasily as a certain half-giant house member was noticeably absent. Evelyn glanced at Tom who looked rather pleased with himself and only she knew why.

"After much deliberation, my colleagues and I have decided that the only just punishment is for his wand to be disbanded, rendering him unable to perform magic ever again…However, my dear friend Albus Dumbledore has convinced me that his case will be better rectified if he is allowed to stay under the faculty's care as a resident game keeper for the grounds."

The grin on Tom's face looked as if it had been slapped right off of him as the news of their mercy for Hagrid dissatisfied him.

By that afternoon it was well known who the culprit of the attacks had been. This was only reassured by the fact that Hagrid's belongings had already been removed from the Gryffindor tower by the time the rest of his housemates made it back to their quarters. Evelyn was on her way to her own quarters in the dungeon when someone tapped her on the shoulder, she whirled around agitatedly, somehow feeling jittery from the whole incident.

"Miss Westwood," the familiar raspy voice of Headmaster Dippet called out.

She took in a deep breath, "Yes sir?"

"I wanted to extend an apology to you for my allegations against you without sufficient evidence," he stated very ceremoniously, as if the words were written somewhere on his sleeve.

"It's okay." As much as she _should _have taken this rare moment to harp it on him for being so supercilious, she decided she would much rather make it back to the Slytherin common room as quickly as possible.

"If there is any service I can ever do for you, do not hesitate to contact me." _Sure_, like she would ever ask him favors after all of this, "I also wanted to remind you that since this whole fiasco is over with, we can continue to make the necessary preparations for you to stay here over the summer if that is still your wish."

"Of course Headmaster." She had almost forgotten about all of it. The conversation was turning awkward, so Evelyn decided to end it right there, "uhm…so, I guess I need to be getting back to the common room before any of the prefects get after me." Evelyn threw out whatever excuse she could think of, even though she could care less if the prefects knew.

"Of course. I want to speak with you and Mr. Riddle tomorrow about going forward with the summer preparations. Please come to my office tomorrow night."

"Ok," she answered awkwardly.

"Then goodnight Miss Westwood."

"Goodnight Headmaster," she waved a little and darted off into the dungeon, towards the Slytherin common room.

Evelyn muttered the password and waited for the stone wall to spin away and open for her. The dark, underground dungeon was lit rather festively considering the recent events. Silver and green tapestries were draped across the chandeliers and someone was letting off small fireworks that brilliantly lit up the usually dark corners of the common room. They were no doubt celebrating the removal of "the annoying oaf", thanks to their very own, Tom Riddle. Normally, Evelyn would be keen to join in on the revelry, and all of her knew found "friends" from the Slytherin Girls Club were passing around drinks, their perfectly polished smiles beamed at their hero of the hour, but Evelyn knew the truth. She knew that Hagrid was just as guilty as herself, except less so. It was she that gave Tom the idea to blame it all on Hagrid. _She_ that insisted that he do it as soon as possible to keep her from taking the heat.

But somehow she didn't feel as relieved as she had hoped.

Tom couldn't help but notice the small, blonde-headed figure wander through the crowds of Slytherins, intent on going to her own dorm. A smile slipped off his face as he noticed that she didn't linger…or even look at him.

* * *

**A/N: **I know, I said I probably wouldn't update this again, but I've very very very slowly been sort of working on this chapter in my free time. I almost feel bad uploading it because I seriously don't know how often I'll work on this story, because I have to warn you that I really don't know where I'm going with this. I sort of have a very very rough outline, but I'm really not sure if I'll get to the end of it. Anyway, with all that depressing stuff said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. A certain LadyFoxy encouraged me to finish this chapter. It's been sitting in my documents folder for what seems like forever. Thanks.


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